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lo\HlS', IS 6^ 




^titsti CoUtge lititarp 



Harry P. Uetidfrson 




.4^^2^^^ ' 






'^c^^^T^ //// 



J 



WAVERLEY NOVELS 

Centtnarg (iEbttun 
VOL. II. 



r, I am Captun Db-k HatKr^cli of the Yungfiauw Haien: 



GUY M A N N 1-; i; 1 N 

Cite 3.5iV3!ogEr 
By SIU WAi.Tl.i; ' ^i T !■..:;■ 



EDlXliURGH: ADAM & CHARLES BLACK 
1886 



%,* 



GUT MANNEEING 

Bt SIK WALTER SOOTT, Baet. 

Wbo (mnper wftli sncli dani;«EOUE art. 

Lay ^ths Last Mimtrtt 



EDINBURGH : ADAM & CHAELBS BLACK 
1886 



l'^i^lS.t5,C>\ 



( HAR> 


^RD> 


U.VIVf 


~^.si7y 


l;ep 


"■.P,Y 


MAR 3 


-»aj 



The Novel or Ronumae of Waverley made iU way io the pvilie 
lUmly, of course, at first, hut afterwardi mth such occumMlating 
popularity as to encourage the Author to a second attempt. He 
looked about for a name and a subject ; and the manner in ivhieh 
the novels ipere composed cannot be better illustrated tkan by reciting 
the simple narrative on whiek Guy Mannering vias originally 
founded ; but to which, in the progress of the work, the production 
ceased to beoir any, even the mosl distant, resemblanu. jiU tale was 
originally told me by an old servant of my father's, cot etceelUnt old 
Highlaxtder, without a fault, unless a preference to immnlam-deu) 
over les$ potent liquors be accounted one. He believed as firmly in 
the story, as in any part of his creed. 

A grave and elderly person, according to old John MacKinlay's 
account, vMle traveUittg in the wilder parts of Galloway, was 
benighted, ffilh difficulty he found his way to a amntry-seat, 
where, with (he hospitality of the time and country, he was readily 
admitted. The owner of the house, a gentleman of good fortune, teas 
much struck by the reverend appearance of his guest, and apologit^ 
to him, for a certain degree of confusion which nuast unawidably 
attend his reception, and could r^t escape his eye. The lady of the 
house vxis, he said, confined to h^ apaiTtm^it, and on the point of 
making her kudiaiui a father for the first time, though Ihey had 
been ten years married. At sach on. emergency, the Laird said, he 
feared his guest miight meet with some apparent neglect. 

VOL. II. B 



4 WAVEELEY NOVELS. 

The mysterioua stranger depa/rted, but Jm words remained imn 
pressed tipon the mind of the anxiims pa/rent. He lost his lady 
while his boy was still in infanmf. This cala/mity, I think, had 
been predicted by the Astrologer ; and thus his confidence, which, liJce 
most people of the period, he had freely given to the science, wa^s 
rivetted and confirmed. The utmost care, therefore, was taken to 
canry into effect the severe and almost ascetic plan of education which 
the sobge had enjoined, A tutor of the strictest principles was em- 
ployed to superintend Ike yontKs edv>cation ; he was surrounded by 
domestics of the most established character, and closely watched and 
looked after by the a/rvxious father himself. 

The years of infancy, childhood, and boyhood, passed as the father 
could have wished. A young Nazarite could not have been bred up 
with more rigour. All that was evil was withheld from his obser- 
vation ; — he only hea/rd what was pure in precept — he only witnessed 
what was worthy in practice. 

But when the boy began to be lost in the youth, the attentive father 
sa/w cause for alarm. Shades of sadness, which gradually assumed 
a darker chara>cter, began to overcloud the y&wng mjarHs temper. 
Tears, which seemed involuntary, broken sleep, Tnoonlight wanderings, 
and a melancholy for which he could assign no reason, seemed to 
threaten at once his bodily health, and the stability of his mind. 
The Astrologer was consulted by letter, and returned for answeTy 
that this fitful state of mind was but the commencement of his trial, 
and thai the poor youth must undergo more and more desperate 
struggles with the evil that assailed him. There was no hope of 
remedy, sa/ve that he showed steadiness of mind in the study of the 
Scriptures. ^^ He suffers," continued the letter of the sage, ^^ from 
the a/wakemng of those harpies, the passions, which have slept vnth 
him as vnth others, till the period of life which he has now attained. 
Better, far better thai they torment him by ungrateful cravings, tlian 
that he should have to repent having satiaied them by criminal 
indulgence," 

The dispositions of the young man were so excellent, that he com- 
bated, by reason and religion, the fits of gloom which at times over- 
cast his mind, a/nd it was not till he attained the corrmiencement of 
his twenty-first year, that they assumed a character which made his 
father tremble for the consequences. It seemed as if the gloomiest 
and most hideous of mental mxdadies was taking the form of religious 
despair. Still the youth was gentle, courteous, affectionate, and 
submissive to his father's will, and resisted with all his power the 



GUY MANNERING, 6 

dark suggestions which were breathed into his mind, as it seemed, by 
some emanation of ike Evil Principle, exhortvng him. Wee the vjicked 
wife of Job, to curse God and die. 

The time at length arrived when he was to perform what was 
then thought a long and somewhat perilous journey, to the mansion 
of the early friend who had calculated his nativity. His road lay 
through several places of vnterest, amd he enjoyed the amusement of 
tra/ueUing mme than he himself thought would have been possible. 
Thus he did not reach the place of his destination till noon, on the 
day preceding his birihda/y. It seemed as if he had been carried 
away with an wn/wonted tide of pleasfwrable sensation, so as to forget 
in some degree what his father had corrumunicated concenving the 
purpose of his journey. He halted at length before a respectable but 
solitary old mansion, to whidi he was directed as the abode of his 
father's friend. 

The servants who came to take his horse, told him he had been 
expected for tnoo days. He was led into a study, where the stranger, 
%ow a venerable old man, who had been his father's guest, met him 
with a shade of displeasure, as well as gravity, on his brow. 
" Young man,^* he said, " wherefore so slow on a journey of such 
importance ?" — " I thought, ^^ replied the guest, blushing and looking 
downward, " that there was no harm in travellvng slowly, and satis- 
fying my curiosity, providing I could reach your residence by this 
day ; for such was my father^ s charge," — " You were to blame," 
replied the sage, " in lingering, considering that the avenger of blood 
was pressing on your footsteps. But you are come at last, and we 
will hope for the best, though the conflict in which you a/re to be 
engaged will be found more dreadful, the longer it is postponed. But 
first accept of such refreshments as nature requires to satisfy, but not 
to pamper the appetite." 

The old man led the way into a summer-parlour, where a frugal 
meal was placed on the table. As they sat down to the board, they 
were joined by a young lady about eightem years of age, and so lovely, 
that the sight of her carried off the feelings of the young stranger 
from the peculiarity and m/ystery of his own lot, and rivetted his 
attention to everything she did or said. She spoke little, and it was 
on the most serious subjects. She played on the harpsichord at her 
father* 8 corwmand, but it was hymns with which she accompanied the 
instrument. At length, on a sign from the sage, she left the room, 
tu/ming on the young stranger, as she departed, a look of inexpressible 
anxiety and interest. 



6 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

The old man Uien conducted the youth to his study ^ and conversed 
with him upon the most importa/nt points of religion, to saiisfy 
himself that he could render a reason for the faith that was in hvm. 
During the exam,ination, the youth, in spite of hvmself felt his mind 
occa,sionally wander, and his recollections go in quest of the beautiful 
vision who had shared thevr meal at noon. On such occasions 
the Astrologer looked grave, and shook his head at this relaxation 
of attention; yet, on the whole, he was pleased with the youth's 
replies. 

At sunset the young man was made to take the haik; and, ha/ving 
done so, he was directed to attire himself in a robe, somewhat like 
that worn by Armenians, having his long hair combed down on his 
shoulders, and his neck, hands, and feet bare. In this guise he was 
conducted into a reTnote chamber totally devoid of furniture, ex- 
cepting a lamp, a chair, and a table, on which lay a Bible, 
" Here," said the Astrologer, " I must Ua/oe you alone, to pass the 
most critical period of your life. If you can, by recollection of the 
great truths of which we have spoken, repel the attacks which will be 
Tnade on your cou/rage and your principles, you have nothing to ap- 
prehend. But the trial will be severe and arduous." His features 
then asstimed a pathetic solemnity, the tears stood in his eyes, and 
his voice faltered with emotion as he said, " Dear child, at whose 
coming into the world I foresaw this fatal trial, may God gi/oe thee 
grace to support it vnih firmness /" 

The young Tnan was left alone; and hardly did he find hmnself 
so, when, like a swarm of dernons, the recollection of all his sins of 
omission and commission, rendered even more terrible by the scrupu- 
lousness with which he had been educated, rushed on his mind, arid, 
like furies armed with fiery scourges, seemed determined to drive him 
to despair. As he combated these horrible recollections with dis- 
tracted feelings, but with a resolved mind, he becamie aware that his 
arguments were answered by the sophistry of another, and that the 
dispute was no longer confined to his own thoughts. The Author of 
Evil was present in the room with him in bodily shape, and, potent 
with spirits of a melancholy cast, was impressing upon him the 
desperation of his state, and urging suicide as the readiest mode 
to put an end to his sinful career. Amid his errors, the pleasure 
he had taken in prolonging his journey unnecessarily, and the 
attention which he had bestowed on the beauty of the fair female, 
when his thoughts ought to have been dedicated to the religious dis- 
course of her father, were set before him. in the darkest colours ; and 



GUY MANNERING. 7 

he^was treated as one who, having dnned against light, was therefore 
deservedly left a prey to the Prince of Darkness, 

As the fated and influential hour rolled on, the terrors of ike 
hateful Presence grew more confounding to Ike mortal senses of Ike 
victim, and the knot of the accursed sophistry beca/me more inextrir 
cahle in appearance, at least to the prey whom its meshes surrownded. 
He had not power to explain the assurance of pardon which he con- 
tinned to assert, or to name the victorious name in which he trusted. 
But his faith did not abandon him, though he lacked for a time the 
power of expressing it, " Say what you ivill," was his answer to 
the Tempter — " I know there is a>s much betwixt the two boards of 
this Book 08 can vnsure me forgiveness for my transgressions, and 
^f^ty for my soul," As he spoke, the dock, which announced the 
lapse of ike fatal hour, was heard to strike. The speech and in- 
tellectual powers of the youth were instantly and fully restored; 
he burst forik into prayer, and expressed, in the most glowing terms, 
his reliance on the truth, and on the Author of the gospel. The 
demon retired, yelling and discomfited, and the old man, entering 
the apartment, with tears congratulated his guest on his victory in 
ike fated struggle. 

The young man was afterwards married to the beautiful maiden, 
the first sight of whom had made such an impression on him, and 
they were consign^ over at the close of the story to domestic happiness, 
— So ended John MacKinhnfs legend.* 

The author of Waverley had imagined a possibility of fra/ming 
an interesting, and perhaps not an unedifying tale, out of the in- 
cidents of the life of a doomed individual, whose efforts at good and 
virtuous condrict were to be for ever disappointed by the intervention, 
(w it Were, of some malevolent being, and who was at last to come off 
victorious from the fearful struggle. In short, something was 
meditated upon a plan resembling the imnaginative tale of Sintra/m 

* (Mr. J. G. Lockhart in his Memoirs of Scott says— 

" The late Mr. Train recovered a rude Durham ballad called the Garland, which 
contains a great deal more of the main fable of Ouy Mannering than MacEinlay's 
oral edition of the Gallovidian anecdote conveys ; and I am strongly inclined to 
think that Sir Walter muat in his boyhood have read this broadside or chapbook 
itself, as well as heard the old serving-man's Scottish version of it." 

*' A writer in the Gentleman's Magazine (July 1840) has also pointed out some 
very remarkable coincidences between the narrative of Guy Mannering, and the 
singular history of James Annesley, claimant in 1743 of the honours and estates of 
the Earls of Anglesey in Ireland." The Durham Garland and the story of James 
Annesley are given in exUnso as an appendix to Soott^s Memoirs by Lockhart)^ 



8 WAYERLEY NOVELS. 

and Ms Gompanions, hy Motis. Le Baron de la Motte Fouqu^, — 
alth(mghy if it then existed, the author had not seen it. 

The scheme projected may he traced in ike three or four first 
chapters of the work, but farther consideration induced the author to 
lay his purpose aside. It appeared, on mature conMeration, that 
Astrology though its influence was once received and admitted hy 
Baicon himself does not now retain infhtence over the general mind 
sufficient even to constitute the mmnspring of a romance. Besides, 
it occurred, that to do justice to such a subject would have required 
not only more talent than the author could he conscious of possessing, 
hut also involved doctrin/es and discussions of a nature too serious for 
his purpose, and for the character of the narrative. In cha/nging 
his plan, however, which wa>s done in the course of prvnting, the early 
sheets retavned the vestiges of the original tenor of the story, although 
they now hang upon it as an unnecessary and unnatural en&wm- 
hrance. The cause of such vestiges occurring is now explained, and 
apologised for., 

It is here worthy of observation, thai while the astrological 
doctrines have fallen into general contempt, and been supplanted hy 
superstitions of a more gross and far less beautiful chara^cter, they 
have, even in modem days, retained some votaries. 

One of the most remarkable believers in that forgotten and despised 
science, was a hie eminent professor of the art of legerdemain. One 
would have thought that a person of this description ought, from his 
knowledge of the thousand ways in which human eyes could he de- 
ceived, to ha/oe been less than others subject to the fantasies of super- 
stition. Perhaps the habiMal use of those abstruse calculations, by 
which, in a mxinner surprising to the artist himself, many tricks upon 
cards, etc., are performed, induced this gentleman to study the coirv- 
hination of the stars and planets, with the expectation of obtaining 
prophetic communications. 

He constructed a scheme of his own nativity, calculated according 
to such rules of art as he could collect from the best astrological 
authors. The result of the past he found agreeable to what had 
hitherto befallen him, but in the important prospect of the future a 
singular difficulty occurred. There were two years, during the course 
of which, he could by no means obtain any exact knowledge whether 
the subject of the scheme would be dead or alive. Anxious concerning 
so remarkable a circumstance, lie gave the scheme to a brotlier Astrolo- 
ger, wlio was also baffled in the same mannefi\ At one period he 
found the native, or subject, was certainly alive — at another, that he 



GUY MANNERING. 9 

was unquestionahly dead ; hut a space of two years exteTided between 
these two terms, during which he could find no certainty as to his 
death or existence. 

The Astrologer marked the remarkable drcwmsi^mce in his Diary, 
and continued his exhibitions in various parts of the empire, untU 
the period was about to expire, during which his existence had been 
warranted as actually ascertained. At last, while he vxis eochibiting 
to a numerous audience his usual tricks of legerdemain, Ike hands, 
whose activity had so often baffled the closest observer, suddenly lost 
their power, the cards dropped from them, and he sunk down a dis- 
abled paralytic. In this state the artist languished for two years, 
when he was at length removed by death. It is said that the Diary 
of this modem Astrologer will soon be given to the public. 

The fact, if truly reported, is one of those singular coincidences 
which occasionally appear, differing so widely from ordinary calcu- 
lation, yet without which irregularities, human life would not present 
to Tnortals looking into futurity, the abyss of impenetrable darkness 
which it is the pleasure of the Oreator it should offer to them. Were 
everything to happen in the ordinary train of events, the future 
would be subject to the rules of arithmetic, like the chances of gaming. 
But extraordinary events, and wonderful runs of luck, defy the cal- 
culations of mankind, and throw impenetrable darkness on future 
contingencies. 

To the above anecdote, another, still more recent, m>ay be here 
added. The author was lately honoured with a letter from a gentl&- 
Tnan deeply skilled in these mysteries, who kindly undertook to 
calculate the nativity of the writer of Guy Mannering, who might 
be supposed to be friendly to tJie divine art which he professed. But 
it was impossible to supply data for the construction of a horoscope, 
had the native been otherwise desirous of it, since all those who could 
supply the minuticB of day, hour, and minute, have been long 
removed from the mortal sphere. 

Having thus given some account of the fwst idea or rude sketch 
of the story, "^ which was soon departed from, the author, in following 
out the plan of the present edition, has to m^ention the prototypes of 
the principal characters in Gwy Manning. 

Some circumstances of local situation gave the author, in his 
youth, an opportunity of seeing a little, and hearing a great deal, 
about that dfigraded class who are called gipsies ; who are in m4)st 
cases a mixed race, between the ancient Egyptians who arrived in 

• (See addendum tc Note I, page 435.) 



10 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

Ev/rope aibout the beginning of the fifteenth century , and vagrants of 
European descent. 

The vndividual gipsy upon whom the character of Meg MerriUes 
was founded, was well known about the middle of the last century, 
by the name of Jean Gordon, an inhabitant of the village of Ki/rk 
Yetholm, in the Cheviot hills, adjoining to the English Border, The 
author gave the public some account of this remarkable person, in 
one of the early Numbers of Blackivood^s Magazine, to ihe follovnng 
purpose : — 

" My father remefmbered old Jean Gordon of Yetholm, who had 
great sway among her tribe. She was quite a Meg Merrilies, and 
possessed the savage virtue of fidelity in the sams perfection. Having 
been often hospitably received at the farm-house of Lochside, near 
Yetholm, she had carefully abstained from committing any dqyreda- 
tions on the farmer's property. But her sons (nine in number) had 
not, it seems, the same delicacy, and stole a brood-sow from their kind 
entertainer. Jean was mortified at this ungrateful conduct, and so 
much ashamed of it, thai she absented herself from Lochside for 
several years. 

^^ It happened, in course of time, that in consequence of some 
temporary pecuniary necessity, the Goodman of Lochside was obliged 
to go to Newcastle to raise some money to pay his rent. He 
succeeded in his purpose, but returning through the mountains of 
Cheviot, he was benighted and lost his way. 

" A light, glimmering through the window of a large waste bam, 
which had survived ihe farm-house to which it had once belonged, 
guided him to a place of shelter ; and when he knocked at the door, 
it was opened by Jean Gordon, Her very remarkable figure, for she 
was nearly six feet high, and her equally remarkable features and 
dress, rendered it impossible to mistake her for a moment, though he 
had not seen her for years ; and to meet with such a character in so 
solitary a place, and probably at no great distance from her clmi, 
was a gri&oons surprise to the poor man, whose rent (to lose which 
would have been ruin) was about his person, 

" Jean set up a hud shout of joyful recognition — * Eh, sirs ! the 
winsome Gudeman of Lochside ! Light down, light down ; for ye 
mauna gan^g farther the night, and a friend* s house sae near,* The 
farmj&r was obliged to dismount, and accept of the gipsy's offer of 
supper and a bed. There was plenty of meat in the bam, however 
it m/ight be come by, and preparations were going on for a plentiful 
repast, which the farmer, to the great increase of his anxiety. 



GUY MANNERING. 11 

observed was calculated for ten or twelve guests, of the same de- 
scription, prohahly, with his landlady. 

" Jean left him in no doubt on the subject. She brought to his 
recollection the story of the stolen sow, and mentioned how much pain 
and vexation it had given her. Like other philosophers, she remarked 
that the world grew worse daily ; and, like other parents, that the 
bairns got out of her guiding, and neglected the old gipsy regulations, 
which commanded them to respect, in their depredations, the property 
of their benefactors. The end of all this was, an inquiry what 
money the farmer had about him, and an urgent request, or command, 
that he would TnaJce her his purse-keeper, since the bairns, as she 
called her sons, would be soon home. The poor farmer made a 
virtue of necessity, told his story, and surrendered his gold to Jean^s 
custody. She made him, put a few shillings in his pocket, observing 
it would excite suspicion should he be found travelling altogether 
penniless. 

" This arrangement being made, the farmer lay down on a sort 
of shake-down, as the Scotch call it, or bed-clothes disposed upon some 
straw, but, as will easily be believed, slept not. 

^' About midnight the gang returned, with various articles of 
plunder, and talked over their exploits in language which made 
the farmer tremble. They were not long in discovering they had a 
guest, and demanded of Jean whom she had got there. 

" * E^en the winsome Gudeman of Lochside, poor body,* replied 
Jean ; * he^s been at Newcastle seeking siller to pay his rent, honest 
mxin, but deHbe-lickit he^s been able to gather in, and sae he^s gawn, 
e*€7i hame wi* a toom purse and a sair heart.* 

" * Thoit may be, Jean,* replied one of the banditti, * but we maun 
ripe 'his pouches a bit, a/nd see if the tale be true or no* Jean set 
up her throat in exclamations against this brea>ch of hospitality, but 
without producing any change in their determination. The farmer 
soon heard their stifled whispers and light steps by his bedside, and 
understood they were rurrmiaging his clothes. When they found the 
money which the providence of Jean Gordon had m^ade him retain, 
they held a consultation if they should take it or no ; but the small- 
ness of the booty, and the vehemence of Jean*s remonstrances, deter- 
mined them in the negative. They caroused and went to rest. As 
soon OS day dawned, Jean roused her guest, produced his horse, which 
she had accommodated behind the hallan, and guided hvmfor some 
miles, till he was on the high-road to Lochside, She then restored 



12 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

his whole property , nor could his earnest entreaties prevail on her to 
accept so mvdi a* a nngU guinea. 

'^ I have heard the old people at Jedburgh say^ that all JeavUs 
sons were condemned to die there on the same day. It is said the 
jury were equally divided, hU that a friend to justice, who had slept 
during the whole discussion, waked suddenly, and gave his vote for 
condemnation, in the emphatic words, * Hang them a' ! ' Unanimity 
is not required in a Scottish jury, so the verdict of guilty was re- 
turned, Jean was present, and only said, * The Lord help the inno- 
cent in a day like this /' Her own death was a>ccompanied with 
circumstances of brutal outrage, of which poor Jean was in many 
respects wholly undeserving. She had, arrumg other demerits, or 
merits, as the reader may choose to rank it, that of being a staunch 
Jacobite, She chanced to be at Carlisle upon a fair or rrvarket-day, 
soon after the year 1746, where she gave vent to her political partiality, 
to the great offence of the rabble of that city. Being zealous in their 
loyalty, tohen there was no danger, in proportion to the tameness 
with which they had surrendered to the Highlanders in 1745, the 
mob inflicted upon poor Jean Gordon no slighter penalty than thai 
of ducking her to death in the Eden, It was an operation of some 
tim^, for Jean was a stout woman, and, struggling with her mur- 
derers, often got her head above water ; and while she had voice left, 
continued to exclaim al such intervals, * Charlie yet ! Charlie yet !' 
When a child, and arrvong the scenes which she frequented, I have 
often heard these stories, and cried piteously for poor Jean Gordon, 

^^ Before quitting the Border gipsies, I may mention, that my 
grandfather, while riding over Charterhouse moor, then a very exten- 
sive common, fell suddenly anwng a large band of them, who were 
carousing in a hollow of the moor, surrounded by bushes. They in- 
stantly seized on his horse^s bridle with many shouts of welcome, 
exclaiming (f<yr he was well known to m/ost of them), that they had 
often dined at his expense, and he must now stay and share their 
good cheer. My ancestor was a little alarmed, for, like the Goodman 
of Lochside, he had more money about his person than he ca/red to 
risk in such society. However, being naturally a bold lively-spirited 
man, he entered into the humour of the thing, and sal down to the 
feast, which consisted of all the varieties of game, poultry, pigs, and 
so forth, that could be collected by a wide and indiscriminate system 
of plunder. The dinner was a very merry one; but my relative got 
a hint from s(/me of the older gipsies to retire just when — ■ 
The mirth and fun grew fast and/urunts; 



GUY MANNEMNG. 13 

(md> mounting his horse accordingly , he ioolt a French leave of hU 
entertainers, hut without experiencing the least breach of hospitality. 
I believe Jean Gordon was at this festival^* (Blackwood's Magazine, 
vol, i. p, 64)' 

Notwithstanding the failure of Jean^s issue, for wliich, 

Weary fa Uie vxiefiC vmddie, 

a grand-daughter survived her whom I remember to have seen. Thai 
is, as Dr. Johnson had a shadowy recollection of Queen Anne, as a 
ctately lady in black, adorned with diamonds, so my mem,ory is 
Imunted by a solemn remsmJbrance of a woman of more than female 
height, dressed in a long red cloak, who commenced acquaintance by 
giving me an apple, but whom, nevertheless, I looked on with as 
much awe as the future Doctor, High Church and Tory as he was 
doomed to be, could look upon the Qvsen. I conceive tMs woman to 
have been Madge Gordon, of whom an impressive amount is given in 
the same article in which her mother Jean is mentioned, but not by 
the present writer : — 

" The late Madge Gordon was at this time amounted the Queen of 
the Yetholm clans. She was, we believe, a grandrdaughter of the 
celebrated Jean Gordon, and was said to have much resembled her i/n 
appearance. The following account of her is extracted from, the 
letter of a friend, who for mmiy years enjoyed frequent and favourable 
opportunities of observing the characteristic peculiarities of the 
Yetholm tribes : — ' Madge Gordon was descended from the Faas by 
tlie motlier^s side, and was married to a Young. She was a renui/rh- 
able personage — of a very commanding presence, and high stature, 
being nea/rly six feet high. She had a large aniline nose, penetrat- 
ing eyes, even in her old age — bushy hair, thoct hung around her 
shoulders from beneath a gipsy bonnet of stram — a short cloak of a 
peculiar fashion, and a long staff nearly as tall as herself. I re- 
member her well : — every week she paid m/y farther a visit for her 
awmous, when I was a little boy, and I looked upon Madge with 
no common degree of awe and terror. When she spoke vehemently 
(for she made loud complaints) she used to strike her staff upon the 
floor, and throw herself into an attitude whkh it was impossible to 
regard with indifference. She vsed to say thai she could bring, from 
the remotest parts of the island, friends to revenge her quarrel, while 
she sat motionless in her cottage; and she frequently boasted that 
there was a time when she was of still more considerable importance, 
for there were at her wedding fifty saddled asses^ and unsaddled asses 



14 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

without nurriber. If Jean Gordon was ihe prototype of ike character 
of Meg Merrilies, I vmagine Madge must have sat to the unknown 
author as the representatim of her person' " (Blackwood's Magazine, 
vol. 1. p. 56), 

How far Blackwood^ s ingenious correspondent was right, how far 
mistaken, in his conjecture, the reader has been informed. 

To pass to a character of a very different description, Dominie 
Samfipson,* the reader may ea^ly suppose thai a poor, modest, hwmble 
schola/r, who has won his way through the classics, yet has fallen to 
leeward in the voyage of life, is no uncom/mon personage in a country 
where a certain portion of learning is easily attained by those who 
are willing to suffer hunger and thirst in excha/nge for acquiring 
Greek avid Latin. But there is a far more exo/ct prototype of the 
worthy Dominie, upon which is founded the part which he performs 
in the romance, and which, for certain particular reasons, must be 
expressed very generally. 

Such a preceptor as Mr. Sampson is supposed to have been, was 
actually tutor in the famiily of a gentlertian of considerable property. 
The young lads, his pupils, grew up, and went out in the world, 
but the tutor continued to reside in the family, no uncom/mon cir- 
cumstance in Scotland (in former days), wherejood and shelter were 
readily afforded to humhU friends amd dependants. The Lairds 
predecessors had been imprudent ; he himself was passive and unfor- 
tunate. Death swept a/way his sons, whose success in life might have 
balanced his own bad luck and incapacity. Debts increased and 
funds diminished, until ruin ca/me. The estate was sold ; and the 
old man was about to remove from the house of his fathers, to go he 
knew not whither, when, like an old piece of furniture, which, left 
alone in its wonted comer, may hold together for a Imig while, but 
breaks to pieces on an attempt to move it, he fell down on his mvn 
threshold under a paralytic affection. 

The tutor a/wakened as from a dream. He saw his patron dead, 
and that his patron! s only remaining child, an elderly woman, now 
neither graceful nor beautiful, if she had ever been either the one or 
the other, had by this cala/mity become a hom^eless and penniless 
orphan. He addressed her nearly in the words which Dominie 
Sampson uses to Miss Bertram, and professed his determination not 
to leave her. Accordingly, roused to the exercise of talents which 

* (The late Rev. George Thomson, son of the minister of Melrose, who acted as 
tutor at Abbotsford, was supposed by his friends to have yielded the Author many 
personal features for his fictitious character of the " Doniiuie.") 



GUY MANNERING. 15 

had long slvmberedy he opened a little schooly and supported his 
patron^s child for the rest of her life, treating her with the same 
hrnnhle observance and devoted attention which he had used towards 
her in the danjs of her prosperity. 

Such is the outline of Dominie Sa/mpsovCs real story, in which 
there is neither romantic incident nor sentimental pa^ssion; but 
which, perhaps, from the rectitude and simplicity of character which 
it displays, may interest the heart and fill the eye of the reader as 
irresistibly as if it respected distresses of a more dignified or refined 
character. 

These preliminary notices concerning the tale of Guy Mannering, 
and some of the characters introduced, may save the author and 
reader, in the present instance, the trouble of writing and perusing a 
long string of detached notes, 

I may add, that the motto of this Novel was taken from the Lay 
of the Last Minstrel, to evade the conclusions of those who began to 
think that, as the author of Waverley never quoted the works of Sir 
Walter Scott, he must have sovne reason for doing so, and that the 
ci/rcwmstance might argute an identity between them, 

Abbotsford, Augttst 1, 182& 



18 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

and there axe few ordinary occasions upon which Fancy frete 
herself so much as in a situation like that of Mannering. 

As the light grew faint and more faint, and the morass 
appeared blacker and blacker, our traveller questioned more 
closely each chance passenger on his distance from the village of 
Kippletringan, where he proposed to quarter for the night. His 
queries were usually answered by a counter-challenge respecting 
the place from whence he came. While sufficient daylight 
remained to show the dress and appearance of a gentleman, 
these cross interrogatories were usuaUy put in the form of a 
case supposed, as, " Ye'll hae been at the auld abbey o' Haly- 
cross, sir 1 there's mony English gentlemen gang to see that," — 
Or, "Your honour will be come firae the house o' Pouderloupat 1" 
But when the voice of the querist alone was distinguishable, the 
response usually was, " Where are ye coming frae at sic a time 
o' night as the like o' this 1" — or, " Ye'll no be o' this country, 
freendl" The answers, when obtained, were neither very re- 
concilable to each other, nor accurate in the information which 
they afforded. Kippletringan was distant at first ^^a gey bit;" 
then the " gey hit " was more accurately described, as " ablins 
three mile ;" then the " three mile " diminished into " like a mile 
and a hittock;" then extended themselves into **four mile or 
thereawa;" and, lastly, a female voice, having hushed a wailing 
infant which the spokeswoman carried in her arms, assured 
Guy Mannering, " It was a weary lang gate yet to Kippletringan, 
and unco heavy road for foot passengers." * The poor hack upon 
which Mannering was mounted was probably of opinion that it 
suited him as ill as the female respondent ; for he began to flag 
very much, answered each application of the spur with a groan, 
and stumbled at eveiy stone (and they were not few) which lay 
in his road. 

Mannering now grew impatient. He was occasionally betrayed 
into a deceitful hope that the end of his journey was near, by 
the apparition of a twinkling light or two ; but, as he came up, 
he was disappointed to find that the igleams proceeded from 
some of those farm-houses which occasionally ornamented the 
surface of the extensive bog. At length, to complete his per- 
plexity, he arrived at a place where the road divided into two. 
If there had been light to consult the relics of a finger-post 
which stood there, it would have been of little avail, as, accord 

* (For Scotch expressions, see Glossary at end of volume.) 



GUY MAimERING. 19 

ing to the good custom of North Britain, the inscription had 
been defaced shortly after its erection. Our adventurer was 
therefore compelled, like a knight-errant of old, to trust to the 
sagacity of his horse, which, without any demur, chose the left- 
hand path, and seemed to proceed at a somewhat livelier pace 
than before, affording thereby a hope that he knew he was 
drawing near to his quarters for the evening. This hope, how- 
ever, was not.speedHy accomplished, and Mannering, whose 
impatience made every furlong seem three, began to think that 
Kippletringan was actually retreating before him in proportion 
to his advance. 

It was now very cloudy, although the stars, from time to 
time, shed a twinkling and uncertain light. Hitherto nothing 
had broken the silence around him, but the deep cry of the bog- 
blitter, or bull-of-the-bog, a large species of bittern; and the 
sighs of the wind as it passed along the dreary morass. To 
these was now joined the distant roar of the ocean, towards 
which the travdler seemed to be fast approaching. This was 
no circumstance to make his mind easy. Many of the roads in 
that country lay along the sea-beach, and some were liable to be 
flooded by the tides, which rise to a great height, and advance 
with extreme rapidity. Others were intersected with creeks 
and small inlets, which it was only safe to pass at particular 
times of the tide. Neither circumstance would have suited a 
dark night, a fatigued horse, and a traveller ignorant of his road. 
Mannering resolved, therefore, definitively to halt for the night 
at the first inhabited place, however poor, he might chance to 
reach, unless he could procure a guide to this unlucky village of 
Kippletringan. 

A miserable hut gave him an opportunity to execute his pur- 
pose. He found out the door with no small difficulty, and for 
some time knocked without producing any other answer than a 
duet between a female and a cur-dog, the latter yelping as if he 
would have barked hisJb'^''':^ "^ut, the other screaming in chorus. 
By degrees tb** viih, heard ^v^^edominated ; but the angry bark 
of the cur bemg ab the mstant changed iato a howl, it is pro- 
bable something more than fair strength of lungs had contri- 
buted to the ascendency. 

" Sorrow be in your thrapple then !" these were the first 
articulate words, — "will ye no let me hear what th« man 
wants, wi' your yaffing?" 



20 WAVEKLEY NOVELS. 

" Ani I far from Kippletringan, good dame?" 

" Frae Kippletrmgan 1 ! ! " in an exalted tone of wonder, 
whicli we can but faintly express by three points of admiration , 
" Ow, man ! ye should hae hadden eassel to Kippletringan — ^ye 
maun gae back as far as the Whaap, and hand the Whaap * till 
ye come to Ballenloan, and then " 

" This will never do, good dame ! my horse is almost quite 
knocked up — can you not give me a night's lodgings ?" 

'^ Troth can I no ; I am a lone woman, for James he's awa to 
Drumshourloch fair with the year-aulds, and I dauma for my 
life open the door to ony o' your gang-there-out sort o' bodies." 

" But what must I do then, good dame 1 for I can't sleep 
here upon the road all night." 

" Troth, I kenna, unless ye like to gae down and speer for 
quarters at the Place. I'se warrant they'll tak ye in,- whether 
ye be gentle or semple." 

"Simple enough, to be wandering here at such a time of 
night," thought Mannering, who was ignorant of the meaning 
of the phrase. "But how shall I get to the places as you 
call it 1" 

" Ye maun baud wessel by the end o' the loan, and take tent 
o' the jaw-hole." 

" 0, if ye get to mssel and wes,sel t again, I am undone ! — ^Is 
there nobody that could guide me to this jplace ? I will pay him 
handsomely." 

The word pay operated like magic. *Jock, ye villain," 
exclaimed the voice from the interior, "are ye lying routing 
there, and a young gentleman seeking the way to the Place*] 
Gret up, ye fause loon, and show him the way down the muckle 
loaning. — He'll show you the way, sir, and I'se warrant ye'U 
be weel put up; for they never turn awa naebody frae the door; 
and ye'll be come in the canny moment, I'm thinking, for the 
laird's servant — ^that^s no to say his body-servant, but the helper 
like — ^rade express by this e'en to fetch the houdie, and he just 
staid the drinking o' twa pints ^^*J^® '-glefeto tell us how my 
leddy was ta'en wi' her piains." "'^ 

"Perhaps," said Mannering, "at such a tune a stranger's 
arrival might be inconvenient 1" 

* The Hope, often pronounced Wliaap, is the sheltered part or hollow 
of the MIL Soft howfy hoof, and havevi, are all modifications of the 
same woTd. + Provincial for eastwai'd and westward. 



GUY MANNERING. 21 

"Hout, na, ye needna be blate about that; their house ia 
muckle eneuch, Jand decking * time's aye canty time." 

By this time Jock had found his way into all the intricacies 
of a tattered doublet, and more tattered pair of breeches, and 
sallied forth, a great white-headed, bare-legged, lubberly boy of 
twelve years old, so exhibited by the glimpse of a rushlight, 
which his half-naked mother held in such a manner as to get a 
peep at the stranger, without greatly exposing herself to view 
in xetuxn. Jock moved on westward, by the end of the house, 
leading Mannering's horse by the bridle, and piloting, with some 
dexterity, along the little path which bordered the formidable 
jaw-hole, whose vicinity the stranger was made sensible of by 
means of more organs than one. His guide then dragged the 
weary hack along a broken and stony cart-track, next over a 
ploughed field, then broke down a slap, as he called it, in a 
dry-stone fence, and lugged the unresisting animal through the 
breach, about a rood of the simple masonry giving way in the 
splutter with which he passed. Finally, he led the way, through 
a wicket, into something which had still the air of an avenue, 
though many of the trees were felled. The roar of the ocean 
was now near and full, and the moon, which began to make her 
appearance, gleamed on a turreted, and apparently a ruined 
mansion, of considerable extent. Mannering fixed his eyes upon 
it with a disconsolate sensation. 

"Why, my little fellow," he said, "this is a ruin, not a 
house?" 

" Ah, but the lairds lived there langsyne — ^that's Ellangowan 
Auld Place ; there's a hantle bogles about it — ^but ye needna be 
feared — I never saw ony mysell, and we're just at the door o' 
the New Place." 

Accordingly, leaving the ruins on the right, a few steps 
brought the traveller in front of a modem house of moderate 
size, at which his guide rapped with great importance. Man- 
nering told his circimistances to the servant ; and the gentleman 
of the house, who heard his tale from the parlour, stepped 
forward, and welcomed the stranger hospitably to Ellangowan. 
The boy, made happy with half-a-crown, was dismissed to his 
cottage, the weary horse was conducted to a stall, and Manner- 
ing found himself in a few minutes seated by a comfortable 
supper, for which his cold ride gave him a hearty appetite. 

* Hatching-time. 



22 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 



CHAPTER SECOND. 



Comes me crankmg in. 



And cnts me from the best of all my land, 
A huge half-moon, a monstrous cantle out. 

Hbnbt thb Fourth, Part I. 

The company in the parlour at Ellangowan consisted of the 
Laird, and a sort of person who might be the yillage school- 
master, or perhaps the minister's assistant ; his appearance was 
too shabby to indicate the minister, considering he Was on a 
visit to the Laird. 

The Laird himself was one of those second-rate sort of 
persons, that are to be found frequently in rural situations. 
Fielding has described one class as feras conswmere nati; but 
the love of field-sports indicates a certain activity of mind, 
which had forsaken Mr. Bertram, if ever he possessed it. A 
good-humoured listlessness of countenance formed the only re- 
markable expression of his features, although they were rather 
handsome than otherwise. In fact, his physiognomy indicated 
the inanity of character which pervaded his life. I will give 
the reader some insight into his state and conversation, before 
he has finished a long lecture to Mannering, upon the propriety 
and comfort of wrapping his stirrup-irons round with a wisp of 
straw when he had occasion to ride in a chill evening. 

Godfirey Bertram, of Ellangowan, succeeded to a long pedigree 
and a short, rent-roll, like many lairds of that period. His list 
of forefathers ascended so high, that they were lost in the bar- 
barous ages of Calwegian independence ; so that his genealogical 
tree, besides the Christian and crusading names of Godfreys, 
and Gilberts, and Dennises, and Rolands without end, bore 
heathen fruit of yet darker ages, — ^Arths, and Knarths, and 
Donagilds, and Hanlons. In truth, they had been formerly 
the stormy chiefs of a desert but extensive domain, and the 
heads of a numerous tribe, called Mac-Dingawaie, though they 
afterwards adopted the Norman surname of Bertram. They 
had made war, raised rebellions, been defeated, beheaded, and 
hanged, as became a family of importance, for many centuries. 
But they had gradually lost ground in the world, and, from 
being themselves the heads of treason and traitorous conspiracies. 



GUY MANNERING. 23 

the Bertrams, or MacDingawaies, of Ellaugowan, had sunk into 
subordinate accomplices. Their most fatal exhibitions in this 
capacity took place in the seventeenth century, when the foul 
fiend possessed them with a spirit of contradiction, which 
uniformly involved them in controversy with the ruling powera 
They reversed the conduct of the celebrated Vicar of Bray, 
and adhered as tenaciously to the weaker sid^, as that worthy 
divine to the stronger. And truly, like him, they had their 
reward. 

Allan Bertram of EUangowan, who flourished tempore Garoli 
Prvmi, was, says my authority. Sir Robert Douglas, in his 
Scottish Baronage (see the title EUangowan), '' a steady lojialist 
and full of zeal for the cause of his Sacred Msgesty, in which 
he united with the great Marquis of Montrose, and other truly 
zealous and honourable patriots, and sustained great losses in 
that behalf. He had the honour of knighthood conferred upon 
him by his Most Sacred Majesty, and was sequestrated as a 
malignant by the parliament 1642, and afterwards as a resolu^ 
tioner in the year 1648." — ^These two cross-grained epithets of 
malignant and resolutioner cost poor Sir Allan one half of the 
family estate. His son Dennis Bertram married a daughter of 
ah eminent fanatic, who had a seat in the council of state, and 
saved by that union the remainder of the family property. But, 
as ill chance would have it, he became enamoured of the ladVs 
principles as weU aa of h^r channs, and my author gives hhn 
this character : ^' He was a man of eminent parts and resolution, 
for which reason he was chosen by the western counties one of 
the committee of noblemen and gentlemen, to report their 
griefs to the privy council of Charles II. anent the coming in 
of the Highland host in 1678." For undertaking this patriotic 
task he underwent a fine, to pay which he was obliged to mort- 
gage half of the remaining moiety of his paternal property. 
This loss he might have recovered by dint of severe economy, 
but on the breaking out of Argyle's rebellion, Dennis Bertram 
was again suspected by Government, apprehended, sent to 
Dunnottar Castle, on the coast of the Meams, and there broke 
his neck in an attempt to escape fi:om a subterranean habitation 
called the Whig's Vault, in which he was confined with some 
eighty of the same persuasion. The apprizer therefore (as the 
holder of a mortgage was then called), entered upon possession, 
and, in the language of Hotspur, '* came me cranking in," and 



24 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

cut the family out of another monstrous cantle of their remidu- 
ing property. 

Donohoe Bertram, mth somewhat of an Irish name, and 
somewhat of an Irish temper, succeeded to the diminished 
property of Ellangowan. He turned out of doors the Rev. 
Aaron Macbriar, his mother's chaplain (it is said they quar- 
relled about the good graces of a milkmaid), drank himself 
daily drunk with brimming healths to the king, council, and 
bishops; held orgies with the Laird of Lagg, Theophilus 
Oglethorpe, and Sir James Turner ; and lastly, took his grey 
gelding, and joined Olavers at Eilliecrankie. At the skirmish 
of DuiJiceld, 1689, he was shot dead by a Cameronian with a 
silver button (being supposed to have proof from the Evil One 
against lead and steel), and his grave is still called, the '' Wicked 
Laird's Lair." 

His son, Lewis, had more prudence than seems usually to 
have belonged to the family. He nursed what property was 
yet lefb to him ; for Donohoe's excesses, as well as fines and 
forfeitures, had made another inroad upon the estate. And 
although even he did not escape the fatality which induced the 
Lairds of Ellangowan to interfere with politics, he had yet the 
prudence, ere he went out with Lord Kenmore in 1715, to 
convey his estate to trustees, in order to parry pains and 
penalties, in case the Earl of Mar could not put down the 
Protestant succession. But Scylla and Charybdis — ^a word to 
the wise — he only saved his estate at the expense of a lawsuit, 
which again subdivided the famHy property. He was, however, 
a man of resolution. He sold part of the lands, evacuated the 
old castle, where the family lived in their decadence, as a mouse 
(said an old farmer) lives under a firlot. Pulling down part of 
these venerable ruins, he buHt with the stones a narrow house 
of three storeys high, with a front like a grenadier's cap, having 
in the very centre a round window, like the single eye of a 
Cyclops, two windows on each side, and a door in the middle, 
leading to a parlour and withdrawing room, fuU of all manner 
of cross lights. . 

This was the New Place of Ellangowan, in which we left our 
hero, better amused perhaps than our readers, and to this Lewis 
Bertram retreated, full of projects for re-establishing the pro- 
sperity of his family. He took some land into his own hand, 
rented some from neighbouring proprietors, bought and sokl 



GUY MANNERING. 25 

Highland cattle and Cheviot sheep, rode to fairs and tiysts, 
fought hard bargains, and held necessity at the staff's end as 
well as he might. But what he gained in purse he lost in 
honopr, for such agricultural and commercial negotiations were 
very ill looked upon by his brother lairds, who minded nothing 
but cock-fighting, hunting, coursing, and horse-racing, with now 
and then the alternation of a desperate duel The occupations 
which he followed encroached, in their opinion, upon the article 
of EUangowan's gentry; and he found it necessary gradually 
to estrange himself from their society, and sink into what was 
then a very ambiguous character, a gentleman farmer. In the 
midst of his schemes, death claimed his tribute ; and the scanty 
remains of a lai^e property descended upon Godfrey Bertram, 
the present possessor, his only son. 

The danger of the father's speculations was soon seen. De- 
prived of Laird Lewis's personal and active superintendence, all 
his undertakings miscarried, and became either abortive or 
perilous. Without a single spark of energy to meet or repel 
these misfortunes, Godfrey put his faith in the activity of 
another. He kept neither hunters, nor hounds, nor any other 
southern preliminaries to ruin ; but, as has been observed of his 
coimtrymen, he kept a mem of business, who answered the pur- 
pose equally w6lL Under this gentleman's supervision small 
debts grew into large, interests were accumulated upon capitals, 
moveable bonds became heritable, and law charges were heaped 
upon all ; though EUangowan possessed so little the spirit of a 
litigant, that he was on two occasions charged to make payment 
of the expenses of a long lawsuit, although he had never before 
heard that he had such cases in court. Meanwhile his neigh- 
bours predicted his final ruin. Those of the higher rank, with 
some malignity, accounted him already a degraded brother. 
The lower classes seeing nothing enviable in his situation, 
marked his embarrassments with more compassion. He was 
even a kind of favourite with them, and upon the division of a 
common, or the holding of a black-fishing or poaching-court, or 
any similar occasion, when they conceived themselves oppressed 
by the gentry, they were in the habit of saying to each other, 
^* Ah, if EUangowan, honest man, had his ain that his forbears 
had afore him, he wadna see the puir folk trodden down this 
gait." Meanwhile, this general good opinion never prevented 
their taking advantage of him on all possible occasions — ^tumijig 



26 WAVERI.EY NOVELS. 

their cattle into his parks, stealing his wood, shooting his game 
and so forth, '' for the Laird, honest man, he'll never find it, — 
he never minds what a puir body does." — Pedlars, gipsies, 
tinkers, vagrants of all descriptions, roosted about his out- 
houses, or harboured in his kitchen ; and the Laird, who was 
^' nae nice body," but a thorough gossip, like most weak men, 
found recompense for his hospitality in the pleasure of ques- 
tioning them on the news of the country side. 

A circumstance arrested Ellangowan's progress on the high 
road to ruin. This was his marriage with a lady who had a 
portion of about four thousand pounds. Nobody in the neigh- 
bourhood could conceive why she married him, and endowed 
him with her wealth, unless because he had a tall, handsome 
figure, a good set of features, a genteel address, and a most, 
perfect good humour. It might be some additional considera- 
tion, that she was herself at the reflecting age of twenty-eight, 
and had no near relations to control her actions or choice. 

It wa« in this lady's behalf (confined for the first time after 
her marriage) that the speedy and active express, mentioned by 
the old dame of the cottage, had been despatched to Kipple- 
tringan on the night of Mannering's arrival. 

Though we have said so much of the Laird himself, it still 
remains that we make the reader in some degree acquainted 
with his companion. This was Abel Sampson, commonly 
called, from his occupation as a pedagogue. Dominie Sampson. 
He was of low birth, but having evinced, even from his cradle, 
an uncommon seriousness of disposition, the poor parents were 
encouraged to hope that their bainiy as they expressed it, 
"might wag his pow in a pulpit yet." With an ambitious 
view to such a consummation, they pinched and pared, rose 
early and lay down late, ate dry bread and drank cold water, 
to secure to Abel the means of learning. Meantime, his tall 
ungainly figure, his taciturn and grave manners, and some 
grotesque habits of swinging his limbs, and screwing his visage 
while reciting his task^ made poor Sampson the ridicule of aU 
his school-companions. The same qualities secured him at 
Glasgow college a plentiful share of the same sort of notice. 
Half the youthful mob of "the yards"* used to assemble 
regularly to see Dominie Sampson (for he had already attained 

• ("The yards'* refer to the open space or area iwed as a playing 
ground at the Hi^h School or cnllegnV 



aUY MANNERINO. 27 

that honourable title) descend the stairs from the Greek claBs, 
with his Lexicon under his arm, his long misshapen legs 
sprawling abroad, and keeping awkward time to the play of 
his immense shoulder blades, as they raised and depressed 
the loose and threadbare black coat which was his constant 
and only wear. When he spoke, the efforts of the professor 
(professor of divinity though he was) were totally inadequate 
to restrain the inextinguishable laughter of the students, and 
sometimes even to repress his own. The long, sallow visage, 
the gogglQ eyes, the huge under-jaw, which appeared not 
to open and shut by an act of volition, but to be dropped and 
hoisted up again by some complicated machinery within the 
inner man, — the harsh and dissonant voice, and the screech- 
owl notes to which it was exalted when he was exhorted to 
pronounce more distinctly, — ^aU added fresh subject for mirth 
to the torn cloak and shattered shoe, which have afforded 
legitimate subjects of raillery against the poor scholar, from 
Juvenal's time downward. It was never known that Sampson 
either exhibited irritability at this ill usage, or made the least 
attempt to retort upon his tormentors. He slimk from college 
by the most secret paths he could discover, and plunged 
himself into his miserable lodging, where, for eighteen-pence 
a-week, he was allowed the benefit of a straw mattress, and, if 
his landkdy was in good humour, permission to study his task 
by her fire. Under all these disadvantages, he obtained a 
competent knowledge of Greek and Latin, and some acquaint- 
ance with the sciences. 

In progress of time, Abel Sampson, probationer of divinity, 
was admitted- to the privileges of a preacher. But alas ! partly 
from his own bashfulness, partly owing to a strong and obvious 
disposition to risibility, which pervaded the congregation upon 
his first attempt, he became totally incapable of proceeding in 
his intended discourse — ^gasped, grinned, hideously rolled his 
eyes till the congregation thought them fiying out of his head — 
shut the Bible — stumbled down the pulpit-stairs, trampling 
upon the old women who generally take their station there,— 
and was ever after designated as a ''stickit minister." And 
thus he wandered back to his own country, with blighted hopes 
and prospects, to share the poverty of his parents. As he had 
neither Mend nor confidant, hardly even an acquaintance, no 
one had the means of observing closely how Dominie Sampson 



28 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

bore a disappointment which supplied the whole town with a 
week's sport It would be endless even to mention the numerous 
jokes to which it gave birth, — from a ballad, called " Sampson's 
Riddle," written upon the subject by a smart young student of 
humanity — to the sly hop« of the Principal, that the fugitive 
had not, in imitation of his mighty namesake, taken the college 
gates along with him in his retreat. 

To all appearance, the ecfuanimity of Sampson was unshaken. 
He sought to assist his parents by teaching a school, and soon 
had plenty of scholars, but very few fees. In fact, he taught 
the sons of farmers for what they chose to give him, and the 
poor for nothing ; and, to the shame of the former be it 
spoken, the pedagogue's gains never equalled those of a skilful 
ploughman. He wrote, however, a good hand, and added 
something to his pittance by copying accounts and writing 
letters for Ellangowan. By degrees, the Laird, who was much 
estranged from general society, became partial to that of 
Dominie Sampson. Conversation, it i& true, was out of the 
question, but the Dominie was a good listener, and stirred the 
fire with some address. He attempted even to snuff the 
candles, but was unsuccessful, and relinquished that ambitious 
post of courtesy, after having twice reduced the parlour to 
total darkness. So his civilities, thereafter, were confined to 
taking off his glass of ale in exactly the same time and measure 
with the Laird, and in uttering certain indistinct murmurs of 
acquiescence at the conclusion of .the long; and winding stories 
of Ellangowan. 

On one of these occasions, he presented for the first time to 
Mannering his taU, gaunt, awkward, bony figure, attired in a 
threadbare suit of black, with a coloured handkerchief, not over 
clean, about his sinewy, scraggy neck, and his nether person 
arrayed in grey breeches, dark-blue stockings, clouted shoes, 
and small copper buckles. 

Such is a brief outline of the lives and fortimes of those 
two persons, in whose society Mannering now ibund himself 
oomfortably seated. 



GITY MANNEKING. 29 



CHAPTER THIRD. 

Do not the hist'ries of all ages, 
Relate miraculous presages, 
Of strange turns in the world's affairs, 
f oreseen-by Astrologers, Soothsayers, 
Chaldeans, learned Genethliacs, 
And some that have writ almanacs t 

HUDIBBAS. 

The circmnstances of the landlady were pleaded to Maimering 
—first as an apology for her not appearing to welcome her 
guest, and for those deficiencies in his entertainment which 
her attention might have supplied, and then as an excuse for 
pressing an extra bottle of good wine. 

" I cannot weel sleep," said the Laird, with the anxious 
feelings of a father in such a predicament, " till I hear she's 
gotten ower with it — and if you, sir, are not very sleepry, and 
would do me and the Dominie the honour to sit up wi' us, I 
am sure we shall not detain you very late. Luckie Howatson 
is .very expeditious ; — there was ance a laas that was in that 
way — she did not live far from hereabouts — ye needna shake 
your head and groan, Dominie — I am sure the kirk dues were 
a' weel paid, and what can man do mair ? — it was laid till her 
ere she had a sack ower her head ; and the man that she since 
wadded does not think her a pin the waur for the misfortune. — 
They live, Mr. Maimering, by the shore-side, at Annan, and a 
mair decent, orderly couple, with six as fine bairns as ye would 
wish to see plash in a salt-water dub ; and little curlie Godfrey — 
that's the ddest, the come o' will, as I may say — he's on board 
an excise yacht ; I Jiae a cousin at the board of excise — that's 
Commissioner Bertram ; he got his conmiissionership in the 
great contest for the county, that ye must have heard of, for it 
was appealed to the House of Commons : now I should have 
voted there for the Laird of Balruddery ; but ye see my father 
was a Jacobite, and out with Kenmore, so he never took the 
oaths ; and I ken not weel how it was, but all that I could do 
and say, they keepit me off the roll, though my agent, that 
had a vote upon my estate, ranked as a good vote for auld Sir 
Thomas Kittlecourt. But to return to what I was saying, 
Luckie Howatson is very expeditious, for this lass " 



30 WAVERLEY NOVfXS. 

Here the desultory and long-winded narrative of the Laird 
was interrupted by the voice of some one ascending the stairs 
from the kitchen story, and singing at fiill pitch of voice. 
The high notes were too shrill for a man, the low seemed too 
deep for a woman. The words, as far as Mannering could 
distinguish them, seemed to run thus : 

Caxiny moment, lucky fit ; 

Is the lady lighter yet ? 

Be it lad or be it lass. 

Sign wi' cross and sain wi' mass. 

'^ It's Meg Merrilies, the gipsy, as sure as I am a sinner,'' 
said Mr. Bertram. The Dominie groaned deeply, uncrossed 
his legs, drew in the huge splay foot which his former posture 
had extended, placed it perpendicularly, and stretched the other 
limb over it instead, puffing out between whiles huge volumes 
of tobacco-smoke. '' What needs ye groan, Dominie 1 I am 
sure Meg's sangs do nae ill" 

" Nor good neither," answered Dominie Sampson, in a voice 
whose untuneable harshness corresponded with the awkwardness 
of his figure. They were the first words which Mannering had 
heard him speak; and as he had been watching with some 
curiosity when this eating, drinking, moving, and smoking 
automaton would perform the part of speaking, he was a good 
deal diverted with the harsh timber tones which issued frcHn 
him. But at this moment the door opened, and Meg Merrilies 
entered. ■ 

Her appearance made Mannering start. She was fiill six 
feet high, wore a man's great-coat over the rest of her dress, had 
in her hand a goodly sloe-thorn cudgel, and in all points of 
equipment, except her petticoats, seemed rather masculine than 
feminine. Her dark elf-locks shot out like the snakes of the 
gorgon, between an old-fashioned bonnet called a bongrace, 
heightening the singular effect of her strong and weather- 
beaten features, which they partly shadowed, while her eye 
had a wild roll that indicated something like real or affected 
insanity. 

"Aweel, EUangowan," she said, "wad it no liae been a 
bonnie thing an the leddy had been brought to bed and me at 
the fair o' Drumshourloch, no kenning, nor dreaming a word 
about it 1 Wha was to hae keepit awa the worriecows, I trow ] 
— ay, and the elves and gyre-carlings frae the bonny bairn, 



QVY MANNERING. 31 

grace be wi' itf Ay, or said Saint Golme's charm lor its 
sake, the dear]" And without waiting an answer, she began 
to aing — 

Trefoil, vervain, John's-wort, dill, 

Hinders witches of their wil) ; 

Weel is them, that weel may 

Fast upon St. Andrew's day. 

Saint Bride and her brat, 
Saint Colme and his cat, 
Saint Michael and his spear, 
Keep the house frae reif and wear. 

Tliis charm she sung to a wild tune, in a high and shrill voice, 
and cutting three capers with such strength and agility as 
almost to touch the roof of the room, concluded, "And now, 
Laird, will ye no order me a tass o' brandy ]" 

"That you shaU have, Meg — Sit down yont there at the 
door, and tell us what news ye have heard at the fair o* Drum- 
shourloch." 

" Troth, Laird, and there was muckle want o' you, and the 
like o* you ; for there was a whin bonnie lasses there, forbye 
myseli, and deil ane to gie them hansels." 

"Weel, Meg, and how mony gipsies were sent to the tol- 
booth?" 

" Troth, but three, Laird, for there were nae mair in the fair, 
bye mysell, as I said before, and I e'en gae them leg-bail, for 
there's nae ease in dealing wi' quarrelsome fowk. And there's 
Dunbog has warned the Red Rotten and John Young aff - his 
gnmds — ^black be his cast ! he's nae gentleman, nor drap's bluid 
o' gentleman, wad grudge twa gangrel puir bodies the shelter o' 
a waste house, and the thristles by the road-side for a bit cuddy, 
and the bits o' rotten birk to boil their drap parritch yn\ Weel, 
there's ane abune a' — ^but we'll see if the red cock craw not in 
his bonnie barn-yard ae morning before day-dawing." 

" Hush ! Meg, hush ! hush ! that's not safe talk." 

"What does she mean?" said Mannering to Sampson, in an 
under tone. 

" Fire-raising," answered the laconic Dominie. 

" Who, or what is she, in the name of wonder 1" 

** Harlot, thief, witch, and gipsy," answered Sampson again. 

" troth. Laird," continued Meg, during this by-talk, " it's 
but to the like o' you ane can open their heart. Ye see, they 



32 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

say Dunbog is nae mair a gentleman than the blunker that's 
biggit the bonnie house down in the howm. But the like o' 
you, Laird, that's a real gentleman for sae mony hundred years, 
and never hunds puir fowk aff your grund as if they were mad 
tykes, nane o' our fowk wad stir your gear if ye had as mony 
capons as there's leaves on the trysting-tree. — And now some o' 
ye maun lay down yer watch, and tell me the very minute o' 
the hour the wean's born, and I'll spae its fortune." 

" Ay, but, Meg, we shall not want your assistance, for here's 
a student from Oxford that kens inuch better than you how to 
spae its fortune— he does it by the stars." 

"Certainly, sir," said Mannering, entering into the simple 
humour of his landlord, " I will calculate his nativity according 
to the rule of the Triplicities, as recommended by Pythagoras, 
Hippocrates, Diodes, and Avicenna. Or I will begin ah hora 
questionis, as Haly, Messahala, Ganwehis, and Guido Bonatus, 
have reconmiended." 

One of Sampson's great recommendations to the favour of 
Mr. Bertram was, that he never detected the most gross attempt 
at imposition, so that the Laird, whose humble efforts at 
jocularity were chiefly confined to what were then called hites 
and bcmis, since denominated hoaxes and quizzes, had the fairest 
possible subject of wit in the unsuspecting Dominie. It is true, 
he never laughed, or joined in the laugh which his own simpli- 
city afforded-7-nay, it is said he never laughed but once in his 
life ; and on that memorable occasion his landlady miscarried, 
partly through surprise at the event itself, and partly from 
terror at the hideous grimaces which attended this unusual 
cachinnation. The only effect which the discovery of such 
impositions produced upon this saturnine personage was, to 
extort an ejaculation of "Prodigious !" or "Very facetious!" 
pronounced syllabically, but without moving a muscle of his 
own countenance. 

On the present occasion, he turned a gaunt and ghastly «tare 
upon the youthful astrologer, and seemed to doubt if he had 
rightly understood his answer to his patron. 

"I am afraid, sir," said Mannering, turning towards him, 
" you may be one of those unhappy persons who, their dim eyes 
being unable to penetrate the starry spheres, and to discern 
therein the decrees of heaven at a distance, have their hearts 
barred against conviction by prejudice and misprision." 



OUT MANNEMNG. 33 

"Truly," said Sampson, "I opine with Sir Isaac Newton, 
Knight, and umwhile master of his majesty's mint, that the 
(pretended) science of astrology is altogether vain, frivolous, and 
unsatisfactory." And here he reposed his oracular jaws. 

"Really," resumed the traveller, "I am sorry to see a 
gentleman of your learning and gravity labouring under snch 
strange blindness and delusion. Will you place the brief, the 
modem, and as I may say, the vernacular name of Isaac Newton, 
in opposition to the grave and sonorous authorities of Dariot, 
Bonatus, Ptolemy, Haly, Eztler, Dieterick, Naibob, Harfurt, 
Zael, Taustettor, Agrippa, Duretus, Maginus, Origen, and Argol? 
Do not Christians and Heathens, and Jews and G^entiles, and 
poets and philosophers, unite in allowing the starry influences V* 

** GoTwmAmis error — it is a general mistake," answered the 
inflexible Dominie Sampson, 

" Not so," replied the young Englishman ; " it is a general 
and well-grounded belief." 

" It is the resource of cheaters, knaves, and cozeners," said 
Sampson. 

^^Ahums non toUit usvm: the abuse of anything doth not 
abrogate the lawful use thereof." 

During this discussion, Ellangowan was somewhat like a 
woodcock caught in his own springe. He turned his face 
alternately from the one spokesman to the other, and began, 
from the gravity with which Mannering plied his adversary, and 
the learning which he displayed in the controversy, to give him 
credit for being half serious. As for Meg, she fixed her 
bewildered eyes upon the Astrologer, overpowered by a jargon 
more mysterious than her own. 

Mannering pressed his advantage, and ran over all the hard 
terms of art which a tenacious memory supplied, and which, 
from circumstances hereafter to be noticed, had been familiar to 
him in early youth. 

Signs and planets, in aspects sextile, quartile, trine, coigoined 
or opposite; houses of heaven, with their cusps, hours, and 
minutes; Almuten, Almochoden, Anahibazon, Oatahibazon; a 
thousand terms of equal sound and significance, poured thick 
and three-fold upon the unshrinking Dominie, whose stubborn 
incredulity bore him out against the pelting of this pitiless 
storm. 

At length the joyful annunciation that the lady had pre- 

"VOL. £L D 



34 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

sented her husband with a fine boy, and was (of course) as 
well as could be expected, broke oflf this intercourse. Mr. 
Bertram hastened to the lady's apartment, Meg Merrilies de- 
scended to the kitchen to secure her share of the groaning malt,* 
and the " ken-no ;" and Mannering, after looking at his watch, 
and noting with great exactness the hour and minute of the 
birth, requested, with becoming gravity, that the Dominie would 
conduct him to some place where he might have a view of the 
heavenly bodies. 

The schoolmaster, without further answer, rose and threw 
open a door half-sashed with glass, which led to an old-fashioned 
terrace-walk, behind the modem house, conmiunicating with the 
platform on which the ruins of the ancient castle were situated. 
The wind had arisen, and swept before it the clouds which had 
formerly obscured the sky. The moon was high, and at the 
full, and all the lesser satellites of heaven shone forth in cloud- 
less effulgence. The scene which their light presented to Man- 
nering was in the highest degree unexpected and striking. 

We have observed, that in the latter part of his journey our 
traveller approached the sea-shore, without being aware how 
nearly. He now perceived that the ruins of Ellangowan castle 
were situated upon a promontory, or projection of rock, which 
formed one side of a small and placid bay on the sea-shore. 
The modem mansion was placed lower, though closely adjoin- 
ing, and the ground behind it descended to the sea by a small 
swelling green bank, divided into levels by natural terraces, on 
which grew some old trees, and terminating upon the white 
sand. The other side of the bay, opposite to the old castle, was 
a sloping and varied promontory, covered chiefly with copse- 
wood, which on that favoured coast grows almost within water- 
mark. A fisherman's cottage peeped from among the trees. 
Even at this dead hour of night there were lights moving upon 
the 'shore, probably occasioned by the unloading a smuggling 
lugger from the Isle of Man, which was lying in the bay. On 
the light from the sashed door of the house being observed, 
a haloo from the vessel, of "Ware hawk ! Douse the glim !" 
alarmed those who were on shore, and the lights instantly dis- 
appeared. 

It was one hour after midnight, and the prospect around was 
lovely. The grey old towers of the ruin, partly entire, partly 

* Note A. The groav4ng mcUi and the ken-fu>. 



GUY MANNERING. 36 

broken — here bearmg the rusty weather stams of ages, and 
there partially mantled with ivy, stretched along the verge of 
the dark rock which rose on Mannering's right hand. In his 
firont was the quiet bay, whose little waves, crisping and spark- 
ling to the moonbeams, rolled successively along its surface, and 
dashed with a soft and murmuring ripple against the silvery 
beach. To the left the woods advanced far into the ocean, 
waving in the moonlight along groimd of an undulating and 
varied form, and presenting these varieties of light and shade, 
and that interesting combination of glade and thicket, upon 
which the eye delights to rest, charmed with what it sees, yet 
curious to pierce still deeper into the intricacies of the wood- 
land scenery. Above rolled the planets, each, by its own liquid 
orbit of light, distinguished from the inferior or more distant 
stars. So strangely can imagination deceive even those by 
whose volition it has been excited, that Mannering, while 
gazing upon these brilliant bodies, was half inclined to beheve 
in the influence ascribed to them by superstition over human 
events. But Mannering was a youthful lover, and might 
perhaps be influenced by the feelings so exquisitely expressed by 
a modem poet ; 

For fable ia Loto's world, his home, hlB birth-place 1 

Delightedly dwells he 'mong fays, and talismans, 

And spirits, and delightedly beUeves 

Divinities, being himself divine. 

The intelligible forms of ancient poets, 

The fair hnmanities of old religion. 

The power, the beauty, and the migesty, 

That had their hauKts in dale, or piny mountains, 

Or forest, by slow stream, or pebbly spring, 

Or chasms and wat'ry depths — all these have vanished — 

They live no longer in the faith of reason ! 

But still the heart doth need a language, still 

Doth the old instinct bring back the old names. 

And to yon starry world t^ey now are gone. 

Spirits or gods, that used to share this earth 

With man as with their friend, and to the lover 

Yonder they move, from yonder visible sky 

Shoot influence down ; and even at this day 

'Tis Jupiter who brings whatever is great, 

And Venus who brings everything that's fair. * 

Such musings soon gave way to others. " Alas ! " he muttered, 
" my good old tutor, who used to enter so deep into the con- 

« (Ooleridge^B "Wallensteiiu'*) 



36 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

troversy between Heydon and Chambers on the subject of 
Afitrology, — ^he would have looked upon the scene with other 
eyes, and would have seriously endeavoured to discover from the 
respective positions of these luminaries their probable effects on 
the destiny of the new-born infant, as if the courses or emana- 
tions of the stars superseded, or, at least, were co-ordinate with, 
Divine Providence. Well, rest be with him ! — he instiQed 
into me enough of knowledge for erecting a scheme of nativity, 
and therefore will I presently go about it." So saying, and 
having noted the position of the principal planetary bodies, 
Guy Mannering returned to the house. The Laird met him in 
the parlour, and acquainting him with great glee, that the boy 
was a fine healthy little fellow, seemed rather disposed to press 
further conviviality. He admitted, however, Mannering's plea 
of weariness, and, conducting him to his sleeping apartment, 
left him to repose for the evening. 



CHAPTER FOURTH. 

Come and see ! trust thine own eyeK, 



A fearful sign stands in the house of life, 
An enemy ; a fiend lurks close behind 
The radiance of thy planet — be warned ! 

CoLEEiDGE, frcm Schiller. 

The belief in astrology was almost universal in the middle 
of the seventeenth century; it began to waver and become 
* doubtful towards the close of that period, and in the beginning 
of the eighteenth the art fell into general disrepute, and even 
under general ridicule. Yet it still retained many partisans, 
even in the seats of learning. Grave and studious men were 
loth to relinquish the calculations which had early become the 
principal objects of their studies, and felt reluctant to descend 
from the predominating height to which a supposed insight into 
futurity, by the power of consulting abstract influences and 
conjunctions, had exalted them over the rest of mankind. 

Among those who cherished this imaginary privilege with 
undoubting faith, was an old clergyman, with whom Mannering 
was placed during his youth. He wasted his eyes in observing 
the stars, and his brains in calculations upon their various 



GUY MANNBEING. 37 

oombinatioDs. His pupil, in eaxly youth, naturally caught 
some portion of his enthusiasm, and laboured for a time to 
make himself master of the technical process of astrological 
research ; so that, before he became convinced of its absurdity, 
William Lilly himself would have allowed him " a curious fancy 
and piercing judgment in resolving a question of nativity.'' 

On the present occasion, he rose as early in the morning as 
the shortness of the day permitted, and proceeded to calculate 
the nativity of the young heir of Ellangowan. He undertook 
the task secumdfwm offUm^ as well to keep up appearances, as 
from a sort of curiosity to know whether he yet remembered, 
and could practise, the imaginary science. He accordingly 
erected his scheme, or figure of heaven, divided into its twelve 
houses, placed the planets therein according to the Ephemeris, 
and rectified their position to the hour and moment of the 
nativity. Without troubling our readers with the general 
prognostications which judicial astrolo^ would have inferred 
firom these circumstances, in this diagram there was one signi- 
ficator which pressed remarkably upon our astrologer's atten- 
tion. Mars having dignity in the cusp of the twelfth house, 
threatened captivity, or sudden and violent death, to the native ; 
and Mannenng having recomrse to those further rules by which 
diviners pretend to ascertain the vehemency of this evil direction, 
observed from the result, that three periods would be particularly 
hazardous — ^his fifOi, — ^his tmik — his twenby-fint year. 

It was somewhat remarkable, that Mannering had once before 
tried a siniilar piece of foolery, at the instance of Sophia Well- 
wood, the yoimg lady to whom he was attached, and that a 
similar conjunction of planetary influence threatened her with 
death or imprisonment, in her thirty-ninth year. She was at 
this time eighteen ; so that, according to the result of the scheme 
in both cases, the same year threatened her with the same 
misfortune that was presaged to the native or infant, whom that 
night had introduced into the world. Struck with this coinci- 
dence, Mannering repeated his calculations; and the result 
approximated the events predicted, until, at length, the same 
month, and day of the month, seemed assigned as the period of 
peril to both. 

It will be readily believed, that, in mentioning this cir- 
cumstance, we lay no weight whatever upon the pretended 
infiMrmation thus conveyed. But it often happens, such is our 



38 ' WAVEELEY NOVELS. 

natural love for the marvellous, that we willingly contribute 
our own eflforts to beguile our better judgments. Whether the 
coincidence which I have mentioned was really one of those 
singular chances, which sometimes happen against all ordinary 
calculations; or whether Mannering, bewildered amid the 
arithmetical labyrinth and technical jargon of astrology, had 
insensibly twice followed the same clew to guide him out of the 
maze; or whether his imagination, seduced by some point of 
apparent resemblance, lent its aid to make the similitude 
between the two operations more exactly accurate than it might 
otherwise have been, it is impossible to guess ; but the impres- 
sion upon his mind, that the results exactly corresponded, was 
vividly and indelibly strong. 

He could not help feeling surprise at a coincidence so singular 
and unexpected. "Does the devil mingle in the dance, to 
avenge himself for our trifling with an art said to be of magical 
origLul or is it possible, as Bacon and Sir Thomas Browne 
admit, that there is some truth in a sober and regulated astro- 
logy, and that the influence of the stars is not to be denied, 
though the due application of it, by the knaves who pretend to 
practise the art, is greatly to be suspected?" — ^A moment's 
consideration of the subject induced him to dismiss this opinion 
as fantastical, and only sanctioned by those learned men, either 
because they durst not at once shock the universal prejudices 
of their age, or because they themselves were not altogether 
freed from the contagious influence of a prevailing superstition. 
Yet the result of his calculations in these two instances left so 
unpleasing an imfHression on his mind, that, like Prospero, he 
mentally relinquished his art, and resolved, neither in jest nor 
earnest, ever again to practise judicial astrology. 

He hesitated a good deal what he should say to the Laird of 
EUangowan concerning the horoscope of his first-bom ; and at 
length resolved plainly to tell him the judgment which he had 
formed, at the same time acquaintiag him with the futility of 
the rules of art on which he had proceeded. With this resolu- 
tion he walked out upon the terrace. 

If the 3sdew of the scene around EUangowan had been pleasing 
by moonlight, it lost none of its beauty by the light of the 
morning sim. The land, even in the month of November, 
smiled under its influence. A steep, but regular ascent led 
from the terrace to the neighbouring eminence, and conducted 



GUY MANNBRING. 39 

Maimering to the front of the old castle. It consisted of two 
massive round towers, projecting, deeply and darkly, at the 
extreme angles of a curtain, or flat wall, which united them, 
and thus protecting the main entrance, that opened through a 
lofty arch in the centre of the curtain into the inner court of 
the castle. The arms of the family, carved in freestone, frowned 
over the gateway, and the portal showed the spaces arranged 
by the architect for lowering the portcullis, and raising the 
drawbridge. A rude farm-gate, made of young fir-trees nailed 
together, now formed the only safeguard of this once formidable 
entrance. The esplanade in front of the castle commanded a 
noble prospect. 

The dreary scene of desolation, through which Mannering's 
road had lain on the preceding evening, was excluded from the 
view by some rising ground, and the landscape showed a pleasing 
alternation of hill and dale, intersected by a river, which was in 
some places visible, and hidden in others, where it rolled betwixt 
deep and wooded banks. The spire of a church, and the appear- 
ance of some houses, indicated the situation of a village at the 
place where the stream had its junction with the ocean. The 
vales seemed well cultivated, the little enclosures into which 
they were divided skirting the bottom of the hills, and some- 
times carrying their lines of straggling hedge-rows a little way 
up the ascent. Above these were green pastures, tenanted 
chiefly by herds of black cattle, then the staple commodity of 
the country, whose distant low gave no unpleasing animation to 
the landscape. The remoter hills were of a sterner character, 
and, at still greater distance, swelled into moimtains of dark 
heath, bordering the horizon with a screen, which gave a defined 
and limited boundary to the cultivated countiy, and added, at 
the same time, the pleasing idea, that it was sequestered and 
solitary. The sesrcoast, which Mannering now saw in its extent, 
corresponded in variety and beauty with the inland view. In 
some places it rose into tall rocks, frequently crowned with the 
ruins of old buildings, towers, or beacons, which, according to 
tradition, were placed within sight of each other, that, m times 
of invasion or civil war, they might commimicate by signal for 
mutual defence and protection. Ellangowan castle was by far 
the most extensive and important of these ruins, and asserted, 
from size and situation, the superiority which its founders were 
said once to have possessed among the chiefs and nobles of the 



40 WAVEKLEY NOVELS. 

district. In other places, the shore was of a more gentle descrip 
tion, indented with small bays, where the land sloped smoothly 
down, or sent into the sea promontories covered with wood. 

A scene so different from what last night's journey had pre- 
saged, produced a proportional effect upon Mannering. Beneath 
his eye lay the modem house— an awkwaxd mansion, indeed, 
in point of architecture, but well situated, and with a warm 
pleasant exposure. — " How happily," thought our hero, " would 
life glide on in such a retirement ! On the one hand, the strik- 
ing remnants of ancient grandeur, with the secret consciousness 
of family pride which they inspire; on the other, enough of 
modem elegance and comfort to satisfy every moderate wish. 
Here then, and with thee, Sophia ! — " 

We shall not pursue a lover's day-dream any farther. Man- 
nering stood a minute with his arms folded, and then turned to. 
the ruined castle. 

On entering the gateway, he found that the mde magnifi- 
cence of the inner court amply corresponded with the grandeur 
of the exterior. On the one side ran a range of windows, lofty 
and large, divided by carved mullions of stone, which had once 
lighted the great haU of the castle ; on the other were various 
buildings of different heights and dates, yet so united as to 
present to the eye a certain general effect of uniformity of front. 
The doors and windows were omamented with projections, 
exhibiting rude specimens of sculpture and traceiy, partly entire 
and partly broken down, partly covered by ivy and trailing 
plants, which grew luxuriantly among the ruins. That end of 
the court which faced the entrance had also been formerly closed 
by a range of buildings ; but owing, it was said, to its having 
been battered by the ships of the Parliament under Deane, 
during the long civil war, this part of the castle was much 
more ruinous than the rest, and exhibited a great chasm, 
through which Mannering could observe the sea, and the little 
vessel (an armed lugger) which retained her station in the centre 
of the bay.* While Mannering was gazing round the rains, he 
heard from the interior of an apartment on the left hand the 
voice of the gipsy he had seen on the preceding evening. He 

* The outline of the aboye description, as far as the supposed ruins are 
concerned, will be found somewhat to resemble the noble remains of 
Carlaverock castle, six or seven miles from Dumfrieii, and near to Locha- 
moss. 



GUY MANNEKINO. 41 

soon found an aperture through which he eoxM. observe her 
without being himself visible ; and could not help feeling that 
her %ure, her employment, and her situation, conveyed the 
exact impression of an ancient sibyL 

She sate upon a broken corner-stone in the angle of a paved 
apartment, part of which she had swept clean to afford a smooth 
space for the evolutions of her spindle. A strong sunb^un, 
through a lofty and narrow window, fell upon her wild dress 
and features, and afforded her light for her occupation; the 
rest of the apartment was very gloomy. Equipt in a habit 
which mingled the national dress of the Scottish common people 
with something of an Eastern costume, she spun a thread, drawn 
from wool of three different colours — ^black, white, and grey — 
by assistance of those ancient implements of housewifery, now 
almost banished from the land, the distaff and spindle. As 
she spun, she sung what seemed to be a charm. Mannering, 
after in vain attempting to make himself master of the exact 
words of her song, afterwards attempted the following pani- 
phrase of what, from a few intelligible phrases, he concluded to 
be its purport : — 

Twist ye, twine ye ! even so Passions wild, and Follies vain, 

Mingle shades of joy and woe, Pleasures soon exchanged for pain ; 

Hope and fear, and peace and strife, Doubt, and Jealousy, and Fear, 

[n the thread of human life. In the magic dance appear. 

While the mystic twist is spinning, Now they wax, and now they dwindle. 

And the infant's life beginning, Whirling with the whirling spindle, 

Dimly seen through twilight bending, Twist ye, twine ye 1 even so 

Lo, what varied shapes attending 1 Mingle human bliss and woe. 

Ere our translator, or rather our free imitator, had arranged 
these stanzas in his head, and wMle he was yet hammering out 
a rhyme for dnvimdle, the task of the sibyl was accomplished, 
or her wool was expended. She took the spindle, now charged 
with her labours, and undoing the thread, gradually measured 
it, by casting it over her elbow, and bringing each loop round 
between her forefinger and thumb. When she had measured 
it out, she muttered to herself, — ** A hank, but not a haUl ane 
— ^the frill years o' three score and ten, but thrice broken, and 
thrice to oop^ (i.e. to unite) ; he'll be a lucky lad an he win 
through wi*t." 

Our hero was about to speak to the prophetess^ when a voice, 
hoarse as the waves with which it mingled, haUoo'd twice, and 



42 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

^th increasing impatience, — " Meg, Meg Merrilies ! — Gipsy — 
hag — tousand deyvik !" 

" I am coming, I am coming, Captain," answered Meg ; and 
in a moment or two the impatient commander whom she 
addressed made his appearance from the broken part of the 
ruins. 

He was apparently a seafaring man, rather under the middle 
size, and with a countenance bronzed by a thousand conflicts 
with the north-east wind. His frame was prodigiously muscular, 
strong and thick-set ; so that it seemed as if a man of much 
greater height would have been an inadequate match in any 
close, personal conflict. Ho was hard-favoured, and, which was 
worse, his face bore nothing of the imfsoucicmce, the careless 
frolicsome jollity and vacant curiosity of a sailor on shore. 
These qualities, perhaps, as much as any others, contribute to 
the high popularity of our seamen, and the general good 
inclination which our society expresses towards them. Their 
gallantry, courage, and hardihood, are qualities which excite 
reverence, and perhaps rather humble pacific landsmen in their 
presence ; and neither respect, nor a sense of humiliation, are 
feelings easily combined with a familiar fondness towards those 
who inspire them. But the boyish frolics, the exulting high 
spirits, the unreflecting mirth of a sailor, when enjoying himsek 
on shore, temper the more formidable points of his character. 
There was nothing like these in this man's face ; on the contrary, 
a surly and even savage scowl appeared to darken features which 
would have been harsh and unpleasant under any expression or 
modification. " Where are you. Mother Deyvilson ?" he said, 
with somewhat of a foreign accent, though speaking perfectly 
good English. " Donner and blitzen ! we have been staying 
this half-hour. — Come, bless the good ship and the voyage, and 
be cursed to ye for a hag of Satan !" 

At this moment he noticed Mannering, who, from the position 
which he had taken to watch Meg Merrilies's incantations, had 
the appearance of some one who was concealing himself, being 
half hidden by the buttress behind which he stood. The Captain, 
for such he styled himself, made a sudden and startled pause, 
and thrust his right hand into his bosom, between his jacket 
and waistcoat, as if to draw some weapon. "What cheer, 
brother'^ — ^you seem on the outlook — eh?" 

Ere Mannering, somewhat struck by the man's gesture and 



GUY MANNERING. 43 

insolent tone of voice, had made any answer, the gipsy emerged 
from her vault and joined the stranger. He questioned her 
in an under tone, looking at Mannering.— " A shark alongside 

She answered in the same tone of under-dialogue, using the 
cant language of her tribe — " Cut ben whids, and stow them — a 
gentry cove of the ken." * 

The fellow's cloudy visage cleared up. "The top of the 
morning to you, sir ; I find you are a visitor of my friend Mr. 
Bertram. — I beg pardon, but I took you for another sort of 8 
person." 

Mannering repUed, " And you, sir, I presume, are the master 
of that vessel in the bay ?" 

" Ay, ay, sir ; I am Captain Dirk Hatteraick, of the Yungfrauw 
Hagen^aapen, well known on this coast; I am not ashamed 
of my name, nor of my vessel, — ^no, nor of my cargo neither, 
for that matter." 

" I dare say you have no reason, sir." 

" Tousand donner — ^no ; I am ail in the way of fair trade — 
Just loaded yonder from Douglas, in the Isle of Man — neat 
cogniac — ^real hyson and souchong — ^Mechlin lace, if you want 
any — Right cogniac — We bumped ashore a hundred kegs last 
night." 

"Really, sir, I am only a traveller, and have no sort of 
occasion for anything of the kind at present." 

"Why, then, good morning to you, for business must be 
minded ; unless ye go aboard and take schnaps, t you shall 
have a pouch-full of tea ashore. — ^Dirk Hatteraick knows how 
to be civiL" 

There was a mixture of impudence, hardihood, and suspicious 
fear about this man, which was inexpressibly disgusting. His 
manners were those of a ruffian, conscious of the suspicion 
attending his character, yet aiming to bear it down by the 
affectation of a careless and hardy familiarity. Mannering 
briefly rejected his proffered civilities ; and after a surly good 
morning, Hatteraick retired with the gipsy to that part of the 
ruins from which he had first made his appearance. A very 
narrow staircase here went down to the beach, intended probably 
for the convenience of the garrison during a siege. By this stair, 

* Meaning — Stop your uncivil language — ^that is a gentleman from the 
hoTDse below. '^ A dram of liquor. 



44 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

the couple, equally amiable in appearance, and respectable by 
profession, descended to the sea-side. The soi-disant captain 
embarked in a small boat with two men, who appeared to wait 
for him, and the gipsy remained on the shore, reciting or 
singing, and gesticulating with great vehemence. 



CHAPTER FIFTH. 

You have fed upon my seignories, 



Disparked my parks, and felled my forest woods, 
From mine own windows torn my lionsehold coat, 
Razed out my impress, leaving me no sign. 
Save men's opinions and my living blood, 
To show the world I am a gentleman. 

Richard 1 1 

When the boat which carried the worthy captain on board his 
vessel had accomplished that task, the sails b^an to ascend, 
and the ship was got under way. She fired three guns as a 
salute to the house of Ellangowan, and then shot away rapidly 
before the wind, which blew off shore, under all the sail she 
could crowd. 

"Ay, ay," said the Laird, who had sought Mannering for 
some time, and now joined him, " there they go — there go the 
free-traders — ^there go Captain Dirk Hatteraick, and the Yung- 
frauw Hagenslaapen, half Manks, half Dutchman, half devil ! 
run out the boltsprit, up main-sail, top and top-gallant sails, 
royals, and sky-scrapers, and away — follow who can ! That 
fellow, Mr. Mannering, is the terror of all the excise and custom- 
house cruizers ; they can make nothing of him ; he drubs them, 
or he distances them ; — and speaking of excise, I come to bring 
you to breakfast ; and you shall have some tea, that" 

Mannering, by this time, was aware that one thought linked 
strangely on to another in the concatenation of worthy Mr. 
Bertram's ideas, 

Like orient pearls at random strung ; 

and, therefore, before the current of his associations had drifted 
farther from the point he had left, he brought him back by 
some inquiiy about Dirk Hatteraick. 



OUT MANNEBING. 45 

'* Oh he's a — a — gade sort of blackguard fellow eneugh — 
naebody cares to trouble him — smuggler, when his guns are in 
ballast — ^privateer, or pirate, faith, when he gets them mounted. 
He has done more mischief to the revenue folk than ony rogue 
that ever came out of Ramsey." * 

" But, my good sir, such being his character, I wonder he 
has any protection and encouragement on this coast." 

" WTiy, Mr. Mannering, people must have brandy and tea, 
and there's none in the country but what comes this way — ^and 
then there's short accounts, and maybe a keg or two, or a dozen 
pounds left at your stable door, instead of a d — d lang account 
at Christmas from Duncan Bobb, the grocer at Eappletringau, 
who has aye a sum to make up, and either wants ready money 
or a short-dated biU. Now Hatteraick will take wood, or he'll 
take bark, or he'll take barley, or he'll take just what's con- 
venient at the time. I'U tell you a gude story about that. 
There was ance a laird — ^that's Macfie of Gudgeonford, — ^he 
had a great number of kain hens — that's hens that the tenant 
pays to the landlord, like a sort of rent in kind — -they aye feed 
mine veiy ill ; Luckie Finniston sent up three that were a shame 
to be seen only last week, and yet she has twelve bows sowing 
of victual; indeed her good man, Duncan Finniston — ^that's 
him that's gone — (for we must all die, Mr. Mannering ; that's 
ower true) — and speaking of that, let us live in the meanwhile, 
for here's breakfast on the table, and the Dominie ready to say 
the grace." 

The Dominie did accordingly pronounce a benediction, that 
exceeded in length any speech which Mannering had yet heard 
him utter. The tea, which of course belonged to the noble 
Captain Hatteraick's trade, was pronounced excellent. Still 
Mannering hinted, though with due delicacy, at the risk of 
encouraging such desperate characters: "Were it but in 
justice to the revenue, I should have supposed" 

" Ah, the revenue-lads " — ^for Mr. Bertram never embraced a 
general or abstract idea, and his notion of the revenue was per- 
sonified in the commissioners, surveyors, comptrollers, and 
riding officers, whom he happened to know — " the revenue-lads 
can look sharp eneugh out for themselves — ^no ane needs to help 
them — ^and they have a' the soldiers to assist them besides ; — 

* A seaport in the Isle of Man. 



46 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

and as to justice — ^you'll be surprised to hear it, Mr. Maimerin£, 
— but I am not a justice of peace." 

Mannering assumed the expected look of surprise, but thought 
within himself that the worshipful bench suffered no great 
deprivation from wanting the assistance of his good-humoured 
landlord. Mr. Bertram had now hit upon one of the few 
subjects on which he felt sore, and went on with some energy. 

" No, sir, — the name of Grodfrey Bertram of Ellangowan is 
not in the last conmiission, though there's scarce a carle in the 
country that has a ploughgate of land, but what he must ride 
to quarter-sessions and write J. P. after his name. I ken fu' 
weel whom I am obliged to — Sir Thomas Kittlecourt as good 
as tell'd me he would sit in my skirts if he had not my interest 
at the last election ; and because I chose to go with my own 
blood and third cousin, the Laird of Balruddery, they keepit 
me oflfthe roll of freeholders; and now there comes a new 
nomination of justices, and I am left out ! And whereas they 
pretend it was because I let David Mac-GuflFog, the constable, 
draw the warrants, and manage the business his ain gate, as if 
I had been a nose o' wax, it's a main untruth ; for I granted 
but seven warrants in my life, and the Dominie wrote every 
one of them — and if it had not been that unlucky business of 
Sandy Mac-Gruthar's, that the constables should have keepit 
twa or three days up yonder at the auld castle, just till they 
could get conveniency to send him to the county jail — ^and that 
cost me eneugh o' siller — But I ken what Sir Thomas wants 
very weel — ^it was just sic and siclike about the seat in the kirk 
o' Kilmagirdle — ^was I not entitled to have the front gallery 
facing the minister, rather than Mac-Crosskie of Oreochstone, 
the son of Deacon Mac-Crosskie, the Dumfries weaver?" 

Mannering expressed his acquiescence in the justice of these 
various complaints. 

"And then, Mr. Mannering, there was the story about the 
road, and the fauld-dyke — I ken Sir Thomas was behind there, 
and I said plainly to the clerk to the trustees that I saw the 
cloven foot, let them take that as they like. — Would any 
gentleman, or set of gentlemen, go and drive a road right 
through the comer of a fauld-dyke, and take away, as my agent 
observed to them, like twa roods of gude moorland pasture 1 — 
And there waa the story about choosing the collector of the 
cess ** 



GXJY MANNERING. 47 

" Certainly, sk, it is hard you should meet with any neglect 
in a country, where, to judge from the extent of their residence, 
your ancestors must have made a very important figure." 

" Very true, Mr. Mannering. — ^I am a plain man, and do not 
dwell on these things; and I must needs say, I have little 
memory for them ; but I wish ye could have heard my father's 
stories about the auld fights of the Mac-Dingawaies — ^that's the 
Bertrams that now is — ^wi' the Irish, and wi' the Highlanders, 
that came here in their berlings from Islay and Cantire — ^and 
how they went to the Holy Land — ^that is, to Jerusalem and 
Jericho, wi' a! their clan at their heels — ^they had better have 
gaen to Jamaica, like Sir Thomas Kittlecourt's uncle — and 
how they brought hame relics, like those that Catholics have, 
and a flag that's up yonder in the garret — if they had been 
casks of Muscavado, and puncheons of rum, it would have been 
better for the estate at this day — ^but there's little comparison 
between the auld keep at Kittlecourt and the castle o' Ellan- 
gowan — I doubt if the keep's forty feet of front. — But ye make 
no breakfast, Mr. Mannering; ye're no eating your meat; 
allow me to recommend some of the kipper — It was John Hay 
that catcht it, Saturday was three weeks, down at the stream 
below Hempseed ford," etc. etc. etc. 

The Laird, whose indignation had for some time kept him 
pretty steady to one topic, now launched forth into his usual 
roving style of conversation, which gave Mannering ample time 
to reflect upon the disadvantages attending the situation, which, 
an hour before, he had thought worthy of so much envy. Here 
was a country gentleman, whose most estimable quali^ seemed 
his perfect good nature, secretly fretting himself and murmuring 
against others, for causes which, compared with any real evil 
in life, must weigh like dust in the balance. But such is the 
equal distribution of Providence. To those who lie out of the 
road of great afl&ictions are assigned petty vexations, which 
answer all the purpose of disturbing their serenity ; and every 
reader must have observed, that neither natural apathy nor 
acquired philosophy can render coimtry gentlemen insensible to 
the grievances which occur at elections, quarter-sessions, and 
meetings of trustees. 

Curious to investigate the manners of the country, Mannering 
took the advantage of a pause in good Mr. Bertram's string of 



48 WAVEELEY NOVELS. 

stories, to enquire what Captain Hatteraick so earnestly wanted 
with the gipsy woman. 

^* Ohy to bless his ship, I suppose. You must know, Mr. Man- 
nering, that these free-traders, whom the law calls smugglers, 
having no religion, make it all up in superstition; and they 
have as many spells, and charms, and nonsense '' 

" Vanity and waur !" said the Dominie ; " it is a trafficking 
with the Evil One. Spells, periapts, and charms, are of his 
device — choice arrows out of Apollyon's quiver." 

" Hold your peace, Dominie — ^ye're speaking for ever** — (by 
the way, they were the first words the poor man had uttered 
that morning, excepting that he said grace, and returned 
thanks) — " Mr. Mannering cannot get in a word for ye ! — ^And 
80, Mr. Mannering, talking of astronomy, and spells, and these 
matters, have ye been so kind as to consider what we were 
speaking about last night V 

" I begin to think, Mr. Bertram, with your worthy Mend 
here, that I have been rather jesting with edge-tools; and 
although neither you nor I, nor any sensible man, can put 
faith in the predictions of astrology, yet as it has sometimes 
happened that inquiries into futurity, undertaken in jest, have 
in their results produced serious and unpleasant effects both 
upon actions and characters, I really wish you would dispense 
with my replying to your question." 

It was easy to see that this evasive answer only rendered the 
Laird's curiosity more uncontrollable. Mannering, however, 
was determined in his own mind, not to expose the infant to 
the inconveniences which might have arisen from his being 
supposed the object of evil prediction. He therefore delivered 
the paper into Mr. Bertram's hand, and requested him to keep 
it for five years with the seal unbroken, until the month of 
November was expired. After that date had iatervened, he 
left him at liberty to examine the writing, trusting that the 
first fatal period being then safely overpassed, no credit would 
be paid to its farther contents. — ^This Mr. Bertram was content 
to promise, and Mannering, to insure his fidelity, hinted at 
misfortunes which would certainly take place if his injunctions 
were neglected. The rest of the day, which Mannering, by 
Mr. Bertram's invitation, spent at EUangowan, passed over 
without anything remarkable; and on the morning of that 
which followed the traveller mounted his palfrey, bade a 



GUY MANNERING. 49 

courteous adieu to hi§ hospitable landlord and to his clerical 
attendant, repeated his good wishes for the prosperity of the 
family, and, then, turning his horse's head towards England, 
disappeared from the sight of the inmates of EUangowan. He 
must also disappear from that of our readers, for it is to another 
and later period of his life that the present narrative relates. 



CHAPTER SIXTH. 



Next, the Justice, 



In fair round belly, with good capon lined, 
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut. 
Full of wise saws and modem instances, 
And so he plays his part. 

As You Like It. 

When Mrs. Bertram of EUangowan was able to hear the news 
of what had passed during her conj&nement, her apartment rung 
with all manner of gossiping respecting the handsome young 
student from Oxford, who had told such a fortune by the stars 
to the young Laird, "blessings on his dainty face." The form, 
accent, and manners of the stranger, were expatiated upon ; his 
horse, bridle, saddle, and stirrups, did not remain unnoticed. 
All this made a great impression upon the mind of Mrs. Bertram, 
for the good lady had no small store of superstition. 

Her first employment, when she became capable of a little 
work, was to make a small velvet bag for the scheme of nativity 
which she had obtained from her husband. Her fingers itched 
to break the seal, but credulity proved stronger than curiosity ; 
and she had the firmness to enclose it, in all its integrity, 
within two slips of parchment, which she sewed round it, to 
prevent its being chafed. The whole was then put into the 
velvet bag aforesaid, and hung as a charm round the neck of 
the infant, where his mother resolved it should remain until 
the period for the legitimate satisfaction of her curiosity should 
.arrive. 

The father also resolved to do his part by the child, in 
securing him a good education; and with the view that it 
should commence with the first dawnings of reason, Dominie 
Sampson was easily induced to renounce his public professior 

VOL. IL B 



50 WAVBKLEY NOVELS. 

of parish sohoolmaflter, make his constant residence at the 
Place, and, in considelution of a sum not quite equal to the 
wages of a footman even at that time, to undertake to com- 
municate to the future Laird of Ellangowan all the erudition 
which he had, and all the graces and accomplishments which 
— ^he had not indeed, but which he had never discovered that 
he wanted. In this arrangement the Laird found also his 
private advantage ; securing the constant benefit of a patient 
auditor, to whom he told his stories when they were alone, and 
at whose expense he could break a sly jest when he had company. 

About four years after this lime, a great conmiotion took 
place in the county where EUangowan is situated. 

Those who watched the signs of the times, had long been of 
opinion that a change of ministry was about to take place ; and 
at length, after a due proportion of hopes, fears, and delays, 
rumours from good aiithority and bad authority, and no autho- 
rity at all ; after some clubs had drank Up with this statesman, 
and other; Down with him ; after rid^g and nmning and 
posting, and addressing and counter-addressing, and proffers of 
lives- and fortunes, the blow was at length struck, the adminis- 
tration of the day was dissolved, and parliament, as a natural 
consequence, was dissolved also. 

Sir Thomas Kittlecourt, like other members in the same 
situation, posted down to his county, and met but an indifferent 
reception. He was a partisan of the old administration ; and 
the friends of the new had already set about an active canvass 
in behalf of John Featherhead, Esq., who kept the best hounds 
and hunters in the shire. Among others who jomed the standard 

of revolt was Gilbert Glossin, writer in , agent for the 

Laird of EUangowan. This honest gentleman had either been 
refused some favour by the old member, or, what is as probable, 
be had got all that he had the most distant pretension to ask, 
and could only look to the other side for fresh advancement 
Mr. Glossin had a vote upon EUangowan's property ; and he was 
now determined that his patron should have one also, there 
being no doubt which side Mr. Bertram would embrace in the 
contest. He easily persuaded EUangowan, that it would be 
creditable to him to take the field at the head of as strong a* 
party as possible ; and immediately went to work, making votes, 
as every Scotch lawyer knows how, by spUtting and subdividing 
the superiorities upon this ancient aud once powertiil barony. 



GUY MANNERING. 51 

These were so extensive, that by dint of clipping and paring 
here, adding and eiking there, and creating over-lords upon all 
the estate which Bertram held of the crown, they advanced, at 
the day of contest, at the head of ten as good men of parchment 
as ever took the oath of trust and possession. This strong 
reinforcement turned the dubious day of battle. The principal 
and his agent divided the honour ; the reward fell to the latter 
exclusively. Mr. Gilbert Glossin was made clerk of the peace, 
and Godfii'ey Bertram had his name inserted in a new com- 
mission of justices, issued immediately upon the sitting of the 
parliament. 

This had been the summit of Mr. Bertram's ambition ; — not 
that he liked either the trouble or the responsibility of the 
office, but he thought it was a dignity to which he was well 
entitled, and that it had been withheld from him by malice 
prepense. But there is an old and true Scotch proverb, — " Fools 
should not have chaining sticks ;" that is, weapons of offence. 
Mr. Bertram was no sooner possessed of the judicial authority 
which he had so much longed for, than he began to exercise it 
with more severity than mercy, and totally belied all the opinions 
which had hitherto been formed of his inert good nature. We 
have read somewhere of a justice of peace, who, on being 
nominated in the commission, wrote a letter to a bookseller for 
the statutes respecting his official duty, in the following ortho- 
graphy, — " Please send the ax relating to a gustus pease." No 
doubt, whto this learned gentleman had possessed himself of the 
axe, he hewed the laws with it to some purpose. Mr. Bertram 
was not quite, so ignorant of English grammar aa his worshipful 
predecessor : but Augustus Pease himself could not have used 
more indiscriniinately the weapon unwarily put into his hand. 

In good earnest, he considered the commission with which 
he had been entrusted aa a personal mark of favour from his 
sovereign; forgetting that he had formerly thought his being 
depriv^ of a privilege, or honour, common to those of his rank, 
was the result of mere party cabaL He commanded his trusty 
aide-de-camp. Dominie Sampson, to read aloud the commission ; 
and at the first words, " The king has been pleased to appoint "— 
** Pleased 1" he exclaimed, in a transport of gratitude — " honest 
gentleman ! I'm sure he cannot be better pleased than I am.*' . 

Accordingly, unwilling to confine his gratitude to mere feelings, 
or verbal expressions, he gave full current to the new-bom zeal 



52 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

• 

of oflBce, and endeavoured to express his sense of the honour 
conferred upon him, by an unmitigated activity in the discharge 
of his duty. New brooms, it is said, sweep clean ; and I myself 
can bear witness, that on the arrival of a new housemaid, the 
ancient, hereditary, and domestic spiders, who have spun their 
webs over the lower division of my book shelves (consisting 
chiefly of law and divinity) during the peaceful reign of her 
predecessor, fly at full speed before the probationary inroads of 
the new mercenary. Even so the Laird of EUangowan ruthlessly 
commenced his magisterial reform, at the expense of various 
established jand superannuated pickers and stealers, who had 
been his neighbours for half a century. He wrought his miracles 
like a second Duke Humphrey ; and by the influence of the 
beadle's rod, caused the lame to walk, the blind to see, and the 
palsied to labour. He detected poachers, black-fishers, orchard- 
breakers, and pigeonnshooters ; had the applause of the bench 
for his reward, and the public credit of an active magistrate. 

All this good had its rateable proportion of evil. Even an 
admitted nuisance, of ancient standing, should not be abated 
without some caution. The zeal of our worthy friend now 
involved in great distress sundry personages whose idle and men- 
dicant habits his own Idchesse had contributed to foster until 
these habits had become irreclaimable, or whose real- incapacity 
for exertion rendered them fit objects, in their own phrase, for 
the charity of all well-disposed Christians. The "long remembered 
beggar," who for twenty years had made his regular roimdp 
within the neighbourhood, received rather as an humble friend 
than as an object of charity, was sent to the. neighbouring 
workhouse. The decrepit dame, who travelled round the parish 
upon a hand-barrow, circulating from house to house like a bad 
shilling, which every one is in haste to pass to his neighbour, — 
she who used to call for her bearers as loud, or louder, than a 
traveller .demands post horses, — even she shared the same 
disastrous fate. The " daft Jock," who, half-knave, half idiot, 
had been the sport of each succeeding race of village children 
for a good part of a century, was remitted to the county 
bridewell, where, secluded from free air and sunshine, the only 
advantages he was capable of ergoyqig, he pined and died in 
the course of six months. • The old sailor, who had so long 
rejoiced the smoky rafters of every kitchen in the countiy by 
singing Captam Wwrd, and Bold Admiral Bmbow, wa*" 



GUY MANNEIUNG. 53 

banished from tho county for no better reason than that fiu was 
supposed to speak with a strong Irish accent. Even the annual 
rounds of the pedlar were abolished by the Justice in his hasty 
zeal for the adndnistration of rural police. 

These things did not pass without notice and censure. We 
are not made of wood or stone, and the things which connect 
themselves with our hearts and habits cannot, like bark or 
lichen, be rent away without our missing them. The farmer's 
dame lacked her usual share of intelligence, — perhaps also the 
self-applause, which she had felt while distributing the momous 
(alms), in shape of a gowpen (handful) of oatmeal, to the men- 
dicant who brought the news. The cottage felt inconvenience 
from interruption of the petty trade carried on by the itinerant 
dealers. The children lacked their supply of sugar-plums and 
toys ; the young women wanted pins, ribbons, combs, and 
bsdlads ; and the old could no longer barter their eggs for salt, 
snufif, and tobacco. AU these circumstances brought the busy 
Laird of Ellangowan into discredit, which was the more general 
on account of his former popularity. Even his lineage was 
brought up in judgment against him. They thought ^^ naething 
of what the like of Greenside, or Bumville, or Viewforth, might 
do, that were strangers in the country ; but Ellangowan ! that 
had been a name amang them since the mirk Monanday, and 
lang before — him to be grinding the puir at that rate ! — They 
ca'd his grandfather the Wicked Laird ; but though he was 
whiles fractious eneugh, when he got into roving company, and 
had ta'en the drap drink, he would have scorned to gang on at 
this gate. Na, na — the muckle chumlay in the Auld Place 
reeked like a killogie in his time, and there were as mony puir 
folk riving at the banes in the co^rt, and about . the door as 
there were gentles in the ha' And the leddy, on ilka Christmas 
night as it came round, gae twelve siller pennies to ilka puir 
body about, in honour of the twelve apostles like. They 
were fond to ca' it papistrie ; but I think our great folk might 
take a lesson frae the papists whiles. They gie another sort o' 
help to puir folk than just dinging down a saxpence in the 
brod on the Sabbath, and kilting, and scourging, and drunmiing 
them a' the sax days o' the week besides." 

Such was the gossip over tlie good twopenny, in every ale- 
house within three or four miles of Ellangowan, that being 
about the diameter of the orbit in which our friend Godfrey 



54 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

Bertram, Esq., J. P., must be considered as the principal luminary. 
Still greater scope was given to evil tongues by the removal oi 
a colony of gipsies, with one of whom our reader is somewhat 
acquainted, and who had, for a great many years, eiyoyed their 
chief settlement upon the estate of Ellangowan. 



CHAPTER SEVENTH. 

Come, princes of the ragged regime at, . 
You of the blood 1 Priggy my most upright lord, 
And these, what name or title e*er they bear, 
Jarkmxiny or Patrico, Cranke or Clapper-dudgeon, 
. Fraier or Abramrman — I speak of all. — 

Beqgab's Bush. 

Although the character of those gipsy tribes, which formerly 

inundated most of the nations of Europe, and which in some 
degree still subsist among them as a distinct people, is gene- 
rally understood, the reader will pardon my saying a few words 
respecting their situation in Scotland. 

It is well known that the gipsies were, at an early period, 
acknowledged as a separate and independent race by one of the 
Scottish monarchs, and that they were less favourably dis- 
tinguished by a subsequent law, which rendered the character 
of gipsy equal, in the judicial balance, to that of common 
and habitual thief, and prescribed his punishment accordingly. 
Notwithstanding the severity of this and other statutes, the 
fraternity prospered amid the distresses of the country, and 
received large accessions from among those whom famine, 
oppression, or the sword of war, had deprived of the ordinary 
means of subsistence. They lost, in a great measure, by this 
intermixture, the national character of Egyptians, and became 
a mingled race, having all the idleness and predatory habits oT 
their Eastern ancestors, with a ferocity which they probably bor- 
rowed from the men of the north who joined their society. They 
travelled in different bands, and had rules among themselves, 
by which each tribe was confined to its own district. The 
slightest invasion of the precincts which had been assigned to 
another tribe produced desperate skirmishes, in which th^re 
vas often much bloodshed. 



GUY MANNBRING. 56 

The patriotic Fletcher of Saltoun drew a picture ot these 
lyanditt] about a century ago, which my readers will peruse 
with astonishment : — 

" There are at this day in Scotland (besides a great many 
poor families very meanly provided for by the church boxes, 
with others, who, by living on bad food, fall into various 
diseases) two hundred thousand people begging from door to 
door. These are not only no way advantageous, but a very 
grievous burden to so poor a country. And though the number 
of them be perhaps double to what it was formerly, by reason 
of this present great distress, yet in all times there have been 
about one hundred thousand of those vagabonds, who have 
lived without any regard or subjection either to the laws of the 
land or even those of God and nature ; ***** No magis- 
trate could ever discover, or be informed, which way one in a 
hundred of these wretches died, or that ever they were baptized. 
— Many murders have been discovered among them ; and they 
are not only a most unspeakable oppression to poor tenants, 
(who, if they give not bread, or some kind of provision to 
perhaps forty such viQains in one day, are sure to be insulted 
by them), but they rob many poor people who live in houses 
distant from any neighbourhood. In years of plenty many 
thousands of them meet together on the mountains, where they 
feast and riot for many days ; and at country weddings, markets, 
burials, and other the like public occasions, they are to be seen, 
both man and woman, perpetually drunk, cursing, blasphem- 
ing, and fighting together." 

Notwithstanding • the deplorable picture presented in this 
extract, and which Fletcher himself, though the energetic and 
eloquent friend of freedom, saw no better mode of correcting 
than by introducing a system of domestic slavery, the progress 
of time, and the increase both of the means of life, and of the 
power of the laws, gradually reduced this dreadful evil within 
more narrow bounds. The tribes of gipsies, jockeys, or cairds, 
— ^for by all these denominations such banditti were known, — 
became few in number, and many were entirely rooted out, 
Still, however, a sufficient number remained to give occasional 
alarm and constant vexation. Some rude handicrafts were 
entirely resigned to these itinerants, particularly the art of 
trencher-making, of manufacturing horn-spoons, and the whole 
mystery of the tinker. To these they added a petty trade in 



56 WAVERLKY NOVELS. 

the coatse sorts of earthenware. Such were their ostensible 
ineaus of livelihood. Each tribe had usually some fixed place 
of rendezvous, which they occasionally occupied and considered 
as their standing camp, and in the vicinity of which they 
generally abstained from depredation. They had even talents 
and accomplishments, which made them occasionally useful 
and entertaining. Many cultivated music with success; and 
the favourite fiddler or piper of a district was often to be found 
in a gipsy town. They understood all out-of-door sports, 
especially otter-hunting, fishing, or finding game. They bred 
the best and boldest terriers, and sometimes had good pointers 
for sale. In winter, the women told fortunes, the men showed 
tricks of legerdemain ; and these accomplishments often heljied 
to while away a weary or stormy evening in the circle of the 
" farmer's ha'." The wildness of their character, and the indo- 
mitable pride with which they despised all regular labour, 
commanded a certain awe, which was not diminished by the 
consideration that these strollers were a vindictive race, and 
were restrained by no check, either of fear or conscience, from 
taking desperate vengeance Upon those who had offended them. 
These tribes were, in short, the Parias of Scotland, living like 
wUd Indians among European settlers, and, like them, judged 
of rather by their own customs, habits, and opinions, than as 
if they had been members of the civilized part of the commu- 
nity. Some hordes of them yet remain, chiefly in such 
situations as afford a ready escape either into a waste country, or 
into another jurisdiction. Nor are the features of their character 
much softened. Their numbers, however, are so greatly dimi- 
nished, that, instead of one hundred thousand, as calculated 
by Fletcher, it would now perhaps be impossible to collect 
above five hundred throughout all Scotland. 

A tribe of these itinerants, to whom Meg Merrilies apper- 
tained, had long been as stationary as their habits permitted, 
in a glen upon the estate of Ellangowan. They had there 
erected a few huts, which they denominated their *'city of 
refuge," and when not absent on excursions, they harboured 
unmolested, as the crows that roosted in the old ash-trees 
around them. They had been* such long occupants, that they 
were considered in some degree as proprietors of the wretched 
shealings which they inhabited. This protection they were 
said anc^iently to have repaid, by service to the laird in war. 



CrfY MAXXERFNG. 57 

or, more jBrequeutly, by infesting or plundering the lands of 
those neighbouring barons with whom he chanced to be at 
feud. Latterly their services were of a more pacific nature. 
Tlie women spun mittens for the lady, and knitted boot-hose 
for the Laird, which were annually presented at Christmas 
with great form. The aged sibyls blessed the bridal bed of the 
laird when he married, and the cradle of the heir when bom. 
The men repaired her ladyship's cracked china, and assisted the 
laird in his sporting parties, wormed his dogs, and cut the ears 
of his terrier puppies. The children gathered nuts in the 
woods, and cranberries .in the moss, and mushrooms on the 
pastures, for tribute to the Place. These acts of voluntary 
service and acknowledgments of dependence, were rewarded 
by protection on some occasions, connivance on others, and 
broken victuals, ale and brandy, when circumstances called for 
a display of generosity; and this mutual intercourse of good 
oflSces, which had been carried on for at least two centuries, 
rendered the inhabitants of Demcleugh a kind of privileged re- 
tainers upon the estate of EUangowan. " The knaves" were the 
Laird's " exceeding good friends ;" and he would have deemed 
himself very ill-used, if his countenance could not now and then 
have borne them out against the law of the country and the 
local magistrate. But this friendly union was soon to be 
dissolved. 

The community of Demcleugh, who cared for no rogues but 
their own, were wholly without alarm at the severity of the 
justice's proceedings towards other itinerants. They had no 
doubt that he determined to suffer no mendicants or strollers in 
the country but what resided on his own "property, and practised 
their tarade by his immediate permission, implied or expressed. 
Nor was Mr. Bertram in a hurry to exert his newly-acquired 
authority at the expense of these old settlers. But he was 
driven on by circumstances. 

At the quarter-sessions, our new justice was publicly up- 
braided by a gentleman of the opposite party in county politics, 
that, while he affected a great zeal for the public police, and 
seemed ambitious of the fame of an active magistrate, he 
fostered a tribe of the greatest rogues in the country, and 
permitted them to harbour within a mile of the house of Ellan- 
^wan. To this there was no reply, for the fact was too 
evident and well known. The Laird digested the taunt as he 



68 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

best could, and in his way home amused himself "wath specula^ 
tions on the easiest method of ridding himself of these vagrants 
who brought a stain upon his fair fame as a magistrate. Just 
as he had resolved to take the first opportunity of quarrelling 
with the Parias of Demcleugh, a cause of provocation presented 
itself. 

Since our friend's advancement to be a conservator of the 
peace, he had caused the gate at the head of his avenue, which 
formerly, having only one hinge, remained at all times hospi- 
tably open — he had caused this gate, I say, to be newly hung 
arid handsomely painted. He had also shut up with paling, 
curiously twisted with furze, certain holes in the fences adjoin- 
ing, through which the gipsy boys used to scramble into the 
plantations to gather birds' nests, the seniors of the village to 
make a short cut from one point to another, and the lads and 
lasses for evening rendezvous — all without offence taken or 
leave asked. But these halcyon days were now to have an end, 
and a minatory inscription on one side of the gate intimated 
"prosecution according to law" (the painter had spelt it perse- 
cution — I'un vaut bien Tautre) to all who should be found 
trespassing on these enclosures. On the other side, for unifor- 
mity's sake, was a precautionary annunciation of spring-guns 
aiid man-traps of such formidable power, that, said the rubric, 
with an. emphatic nota bene — " if a man goes in, they will break 
a horse's leg!" , 

In defiance of these threats, six well-grown gipsy boys and 
girls were riding cock-horse upon the new gate, and plaiting 
May-flowers, which it was but too evident had been gathered 
within the forbidden precincts. With as much anger as he was 
capable of feeling, or perhaps of assuming, the Laird com- 
manded them to descend; — they paid no attention to his 
mandate : he then began to pull them down one after another ; 
they resisted, passively, at least, each sturdy bronzed varlet 
making himself as heavy as he could, or climbing up as fast as 
he was dismounted. 

The Laird then called in the assistance of his servant, a surly 
fellow, who had immediate recourse to his horse-whip. A few 
lashes sent the party a-scampering ; and thus conmienced the 
first breach of the peace between the house of Ellangowan and 
the gipsies of Demcleugh. 

The latter could not for some time imagine that the war wae 



OUT MANNEllING. 59 

real ;— until they found that their children were horse-whipped 
by the grieve when found trespassing; and their asses were 
poinded by the ground-officer when left in the plantations or 
even when turned to graze by the road-side, against the . provi- 
sion of the turnpike acts ; that the constable began to make 
curious inquiries into their mdde of gaining a livelihood, and 
expressed his surprise that the men should sleep in the hovels 
all day, and be abroad the greater part of the night. 

When matters came to this point, the gipsies, without scruple, 
entered upon measures of retaliation. EllangoWan's hen-roosts 
were plundered, his linen stolen from the lines or bleaching- 
ground, his fishings poached, his dogs kid-napped, his growing 
trees cut or barked. Much petty mischief was done, and some 
evidently for the mischief's sake. On the other hand warrants 
went forth, without mercy, to pursue, search - for, take, and 
apprehend ; and, notwithstanding their dexterity, one or two of 
the depredators were unable to avoid conviction. One, a stout 
young fellow, who sometimes had gone to sea a-fishing, was 

handed over to the captain of the impress service at D ; 

two children were soundly flogged, and one Egyptian matron 
sent to the house of correction. 

Still, however, the ^psies made no motion to leave the spot 
which they had so long inhabited, and Mr. Bertram felt an' 
unwillingness to deprive them of their ancient " city of reiuge ;" 
flo that the petty warfare we have noticed continued for 
several months, without increase or abatement of hostilities on 
either side. 



60 WA.VERLEY NOVELS. 



CHAPTER EIGSTH. 

So the red Indian, by Ontario's side, 

Nursed hardy on the brindled panther's hide, 

As fades his swarthy race, with anguish sees 

The white man's cottage rise beneath the trees ; 

He leaves the shelter of his native wood, 

He leaves the murmur' of Ohio's flood, 

And forward rushing in indignant grief, 

Where never foot has trod the fallen leaf, 

He bends his course where twilight reigns sublime. 

O'er forests silent since the birth of time. 

Scenes of Ihfascti. 

In tracing the rise and progress of the Scottish Maroon wax, 
we must not omit to mention that years had rolled on, and 
that little Harry Bertram, one of the hardiest and most lively 
children that ever made a sword and grenadier's cap of rushes, 
now approached his fifth revolving birth-day. A hardihood of 
disposition, which early developed itself, made him already a 
little wanderer; he was weU acquainted with every patch of 
lea ground and dingle around Ellangowan, and could tell in 
his broken language upon what baulks grew the bonniest 
flowers, and what copse had the ripest nuts. He repeatedly 
terrified his attendants by clambering about the ruins of the 
old castle, and had more than once made a stolen excursion as 
far as the gipsy hamlet. 

On these occasions he was generally brought back by Meg 
Merrilies, who, though she could pot be prevailed upon to enter 
the Place of Ellangowan after her nephew had been given up 
to the pressgang, did not apparently extend her resentment to 
the child. On the contrary^ she often contrived to waylay him 
in his walks, sing him a gipsy song, give him a ride upon her 
jackass, and thrust into his pocket a piece of gingerbread or a 
red-cheeked apple. This woman's ancient attachment to the 
family, repelled and checked in every other direction, seemed 
to rejoice in having some object on which it could yet repose 
and expand itself She prophesied a hundred times, "that 
young Mr. Harry would be the pride o' the family, and there 
hadna been sic a sprout frae the auld aik since the death of 
Arthur Mac-Din^ijawaie, that was killed in the battle o' the 



GTIY MANNERING. 



61 



Bloody Bay ; as for the present stick, it was good for naething 
but firewood." On one occasion, when the child was ill, she 
lay all night below the window, chanting a rhyme which she 
believed sovereign as a febrifuge, and could neither be prevailed 
upon to enter the house, nor to leave the station she had chosen, 
till she was informed that the crisis was over. 

The affection of this woman became matter of suspicion, not 
indeed to the Laird, who was never hasty in suspecting evil, 
but to his wife, who had indifferent health and poor spirits. 
She was now far advanced in a second pregnancy, and, as she 
could not walk abroad herself, and the woman who attended 
upon Harry was young and thoughtless, she prayed Dominie 
Sampson to undertake the task of watching the boy in his 
rambles, when he should not be otherwise accompanied. The 
Dominie loved his young charge, and was enraptured with his 
own success, in having already brought him so far in his 
learning as to spell words of three syllables. The idea of this 
early prodigy of erudition being carried off by the gipsies, like a 
second Adam Smith,* was not to be tolerated ; and accordingly, 
though the charge was contrary to all his habits of life, he 
readily undertook it, and might be seen stalking about with a 
mathematical problem in his head, and his eye upon a child of 
five years old, whose rambles led him into a himdred awkward 
situations. Twice was the Dominie chased by a cross-grained 
cow, once he fell into the brook crossing at the stepping-stones, 
and another time was bogged up to the middle in the slough 
of Lochend, in attempting to gather a water-lily for the young 
Laird. It was the opinion of the village matrons who relieved 
Sampson upon the latter occasion, " that the Laird might as 
weel trust the care o' his bairn to a potato bogle;" but the 
good Dominie bore all his disasters with gravity and serenity 
equally imperturbable. " Pro-di-gi-ous ! " was the only ejacu- 
lation they ever extorted from the much-enduring man. 

The Laird had by this time determined to make root-and- 
branch work with the Maroons of Demcleugh. The old 
servants shook their heads at his proposal, and even Dominie 
Sampson ventured upon an indirect remonstrance. As, how- 
ever, it was couched in the oracular phrase, "iV^e inoveas 
Gamerinam" neither the allusion, nor the language in which 

* The father of Economical Philosophy, was, when a child, actually 
(Tarried off by gipsies, and remained some hours in their possession. 



62 WAVERLEY NOVELL 

it was expressed, were calculated for Mr. Bertram's edification, 
and matters proceeded against the gipsies in form of law. 
Every door in the hamlet was chalked by the ground-officer, 
m token of a formal warning to remove at next term. Still, 
however, they showed no symptoms either of submission or of 
compliance. At length the term-day, the fatal Martinmas, 
arrived, and violent measures of Section were resorted to. A 
strong posse of peace-officers, sufficient to render all resistance 
vain, charged the inhabitants to depart by noon ; and, as they 
did not obey, the officers, m terms of their warrant, proceeded 
to unroof the cottages, and pull down the wretched doors and 
windows, — ^a siunmary and effectual mode of ejection, still 
practised in some remote parts of Scotland, when a tenant 
proves refractory. The gipsies, for a time, beheld the work of 
destruction in sullen silence and inactivity ; then set about 
saddling and loading their asses, and making preparations for 
their departure. These were soon accomplished, where all had 
the habits of wandering Tartars; and 'they set forth on their 
journey to seek new settlements, where their patrons should 
neither be of the quorum, nor custos rotulorum. 

Certain qualms of feeling had deterred Ellangowan from 
attending in person to see his tenants expelled. He left the 
executive part of the business to the officers of the law, under 
the immediate direction of Frank Kemiedy. a superviwr, or 
riding-officer, belonging to the excise, who had of late become 
intimate at the Place, and of whom we shall have more to say 
in the next chapter. Mr. Bertram himself chose that day to 
make a visit to a friend at some distance. But it so happened, 
notwithstanding his precautions, that he could not avoid meeting 
his late tenants during their retreat frt)m his property. 

It was in a hollow way, near the top of a steep ascent, upon 
the verge of the Ellangowan estate, that Mr. Bertram met the 
gipsy procession. Four or five men formed the advanced guard, 
wrapped in long loose great-coats that hid their tall slender 
figures, as the large slouched hats, drawn over their brows, 
concealed their wild features, dark eyes, and swarthy faces. 
Two of them carried long fowling-pieces, one wore a broadsword 
without a sheath, and all had the Highland dirk, though 
they did not wear that weapon openly or ostentatiously. 
Behind them followed the train of laden asses, and small carts, 
or tvmbl&i's as they were called ui that country, on which were 



GUY MANNERING. 6S 

laid the decrepit and the helpless, the aged and intaut part of 
the exiled community. The women in their red cloaks and 
straw hats, the elder children with bare heads and bare feet, 
and almost naked bodies, had the inmiediate care of the little 
caravan. The road was narrow, running between two broken 
banks of sand, and Mr. Bertram's servant rode forward, smack- 
ing his whip with an air of authority, and motioning to the 
drivers to allow free passage to their betters. His signal was 
unattended to. He then called to the men who lounged idly 
on before, ''Stand to your beasts' heads, and make room for 
the Laird to pass." 

" He shall have his share of the road," answered a male gipsy 
from under his slouched and large brinmied hat, and without 
raising his face, '' and he shall have nae mair ; the highway is 
as free to our cuddies as to liis gelding." 

The tone of the man being sulky, and even menacing, Mr. 
Bertram thought it best to put his dignity in his pocket, and 
pass by the procession quietly, on such space as they chose to 
leave for his accommodation, which was narrow enough. To 
cover with an appearance of indifference his feeling of the want 
of respect with which he was treated, he addressed one of the 
men, as he passed without any show of greeting, salute, or 
recognition, — "Giles Baillie," he said, "have you heard that 
your son Gabriel is well?" (The question respected the yoimg 
man who had been pressed). 

" If I had heard otherwise," said the old man, looking up 
with a stem and menacing countenance, "you should have 
heard of it too." And he plodded on his way, tarrying no 
farther questions.* When the Laird had pressed on with difficulty 
among a crowd of familiar faces, which had on all former occa- 
sions marked his approach with the reverence due to that oi a 
siiperior being, but in which he now only read hatred and 
contempt, and had got clear of the throng, he could not help 
turning his horse, and looking back to mark the progress of 
their march. The group would have been an excellent subject 
for the pencil of Calotte. The van had already reached a small 
and stunted thicket, which was at the bottom of the hill, and 
which gradually hid the line .of march until the last stragglers 
disappeared. 

His sensations were bitter enough. The race, it is true. 

* This anecdote is a literal fact. 



64 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

which he had thus summarily dismissed from their ancient 
place of refuge, was idle and vicious ; but had he endeavoured 
to render . them otherwise ? They were not more irregular 
characters now than they had been while they were admitted 
to consider themselves as a sort of subordinate dependents of 
his family ; and ought the mere circumstance of his becoming a 
magistrate to have made at once such a change in his conduct 
towards them ? Some means of reformation ought at least to 
have been tried, before sending seven families at once upon the 
wide worid, and depriving them of a degree of countenance, 
which withheld them at least from atrocious guilt. There was 
also a natural yeammg of heart on parting with so many known 
and familiar faces; and to this feeling Grodfrey Bertram was 
peculiarly accessible, from the limited qualities of his mind, 
which sought its principal amusements among the petty objects 
around him. As he was about to turn his horse's head to pursue 
his journey, Meg Merrilies, who had lagged behind the troop, 
unexpectedly presented herself. 

She was standing upon one of those high precipitous banks, 
which, as we before noticed, overhung the road ; so that she 
was placed considerably higher than Ellangowan, even though 
he was on horseback ; and her tall figure, relieved against the 
clear blue sky, seemed almost of supernatural stature. We 
have noticed that there was in her general attire, or rather in 
her mode of adjusting it, somewhat of a foreign costume, artfully 
adopted perhaps for the purpose of adding to the effect of her 
spells and predictions, or perhaps from some traditional notions 
respecting the dress of her ancestors. On this occasion, she 
had a large piece of red cotton cloth rolled about her head in 
the form of a turban, from beneath which her dark eyes 
fltohed with uncommon lustre. Her long and tangled black 
hair fell in elf-locks from the folds of this singular head-gear. 
Her attitude was that of a sibyl in frenzy, and she stretched 
out in her right hand a sapling bough, which seemed just 
pulled. 

" I'll be d d," said the groom, " if she has not been cut- 
ting the young ashes in the Dukit park !" — The Laird made no 
answer, but continued to look at the figure which was thus 
perched above his path. 

" Eide your ways," said the gipsy, " ride your ways, Laird of 
Ellangowan — ride your ways, Godfrey Bertram ! — This day havo 



GUY MANNEK12CG. 66 

ye quenched seven smoking hearths — see if the fire in your ain 
parlour bum the blither for that. Ye have riven the thack oflF 
seven cottar houses — look if your ain roof-tree stand the faster. 
— Ye may stable your stirks in the shealings at Demcleugh — 
see that the hare does not couch on the hearthstane at Ellan- 
gowan. — Ride your ways, Godfrey Bertram — ^what do ye glower 
after our folk for ? — There's thirty hearts there that wad hae 
wanted bread ere ye had wanted sunkets,* and spent their life- 
blood ere ye had scratched your finger. Yes — ^there's thirty 
yonder, from the auld wife of an hundred to the babe that was 
bom last week, that ye have turned out o' their bits o' bields. 
to sleep with the tod and the blackcock in the muiis ! — Ride 
your ways, Ellangowan. — Our bairns are hinging at our weary 
backs — ^look that your braw cradle at hame be the fairer spread 
up : not that I am wishing ill to little Harry, or to the babe 
that's yet to be bom — Grod forbid — ^and make them kind to the 
poor, and better folk than their father ! — ^And now, ride e'en 
your ways ; for these are the last words ye'U ever hear Meg 
Merrilies speak, and this is the last reise t that I'll ever cut in 
the bonny woods of Ellangowan." 

So saying, she broke the sapling she held in her hand, and 
flung it into the road. Margaret of Ai\jou, bestowing on her 
triumphant foes her keen-edged malediction, could not have 
turned from them with a gesture more proudly contemptuous. 
The Laird was clearing his voice to speak, and thrusting his 
hand in his pocket to find a half-crown; the gipsy waited neither 
for his reply nor his donation, but strode down the hill to over- 
take the caravan. 

Ellangowan rode pensively home ; and it was remarkable that 
he did not mention this interview to any of his family. The 
groom waa not so reserved ; he told the story at great length to 
a full audience in the kitchen, and concluded by swearing, that 
^' if ever the devil spoke by the mouth of a woman, he had 
spoken by that of Meg Merrilies that blessed day." 

* DelicaciiM. t Sapling branch. 



VOL. n. 



66 WAVEELEY NOVELS. 



CHAPTER NINTR 

Paint Scotland greeting ower her thrissle^ 
Her mutchkin stoup as toom's a whistle, 
And d n'd excisemen in a bustle, 

Seizing a stell ; 
Triumphant crushin't like a mussell. 

Or lampit shell. 
Burns. 

During the period of Mr. Bertram's active magistracy, he did 
not forget the affairs of the revenue. Smuggling, for which the 
Isle of Man then afforded peculiar facilities, was general, or 
rather universal, all along the south-western coast of Scotland. 
Almost all the common people wer^ engaged in these practices ; 
the gentry connived at them, and the officers of the revenue 
were frequently discountenanced in the exercise of their duty by 
those who should have protected them. 

There was, at this period, employed as a riding officer or 
supervisor, in that part of the country, a certain Francis 
Kennedy, already named in our narrative; a stout, resolute, 
and active man, who had made seizures to a great amount, and 
was proportionally hated by those who had an interest in the 
fair trade, as they called the pursuit of these contraband adven- 
turers. This person was natural son to a gentleman of good 
family, owing to which circmnstance, and to his being of a jolly 
convivial disposition, and singing a good song, he was admitted 
to the occasional society of the gentlemen of the country, and 
was a member of several of their dubs for practising athletic 
games, at which he was particularly expert. 

At Ellangowan, Kennedy was a frequent and always an 
acceptable guest. His vivacity relieved Mr. Bertram of the 
trouble of thought, and the labour which it cost him to support 
a detailed conmiunication of ideas ; while the daring and 
dangerous exploits which he had undertaken in the discharge 
of his office, formed excellent conversation. To all these 
revenue adventures did the Laird of Ellangowan seriously 
incline, and the amusement which he derived from Kennedy's 
society formed an excellent reason for countenancing and assist- 
ing the narrator in the execution of his invidious and hazardous 
duty. 



GUY MANNERING. 67 

"Frank Kennedy," he said, "was a' gentleman, though on 
the wrang side -of the blanket — he was connected with the 
family of ElUvngowan through the house of Glengubble. The 
List Laird of Glengubble would have brought the estate into the 
Ellangowan line ; but happening to go to Harrigate, he there 
met with Miss Jean Hadaway — ^by the by, the Green Dragon 
at Harrigate is the best house of the twa; — ^but for Frank 
Kennedy, he's in one sense a gentleman bom, and it's a shame 
not to support him against these blackguard smugglers." 

After this league had taken place between judgment and 
execution, it chanced that Captain Dirk Hatteraick had landed 
a cargo of spirits, and other contraband goods upon the beach 
not far from Ellangowan, and, confiding in the indifference with 
which the Laird had formerly regarded similar infractions of the 
law, he was neither very anxious to conceal nor to expedite the 
transaction. The consequence was, that Mr. Frank Kennedy, 
armed with a warrant from Ellangowan, and supported by some 
of the Laird's people who knew the country, and by a party of 
military, poured down upon the kegs, bales, and bags, and after 
a desperate affray, in which severe wounds were given and 
received, succeeded in clapping the broad arrow upon the 
aiticles, and bearing them off in triumph to the next custom- 
house. Dirk Hatteraick vowed, in Dutch, German, and English, 
a deep and full revenge, both against the ganger and his abettors ; 
and all who knew him thought it likely he would keep his word. 

A few days after the departure of the gipsy tribe, Mr. Bertram 
as^xd his lady one morning at breakfast, whether this was not 
little Harry's birth-day ? 

"Five years auld, exactly, this blessed day," answered 
the lady; "so we may look into the English Gentleman's 
paper." 

Mr. Bertram liked to show his authority in trifles. " No, my 
dear, not till to-morrow. The last time I was at quarter-sessions, 
the sheriff told us that dies — ^that dies inceptus — ^in short — ^you 
don't understand Latin — ^but it means that a term-day is not 
begun till it's ended." 

" That sounds like nonsense, my dear." 

" May be so, my dear ; but it may be very good law for all 
that. I am sure, speaking of term-days, I wish, as Frank 
Kennedy says, that Whitsunday would kdll Martinmas, and be 
hanged for the murder — ^for there I have got a letter about that 



58 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

interest of Jenuy Cairns's, and deil a tenant's been at the Plaoe 
yet wi' a boddle of rent, — ^nor will not tiU Candlemas — ^but, 
speaking of Frank Kennedy, I dare say he'll be here the day, 
for he was away round to Wigton to warn a king's ship that's 
lying in the bay about Dirk Hatteraick's lugger being on the 
coast again, and he'll be back this day ; so we'll have a bottle 
of claret, and drink little Harry's health." 

" I wish," replied the lady, " Frank Kennedy would let Dirk 
Hatteraick alane. What needs he make himself mair busy than 
other folk 1 Cannot he sing his sang, and take his drink, and 
draw his salary, like Collector SnaU, honest man, that never 
fashes onybody 1 And I wonder at you, Laird, for meddling and 
making — Did we ever want to send for tea or brandy firae the 
Borough-town, when Dirk Hatteraick used to come quietly into 
the bay 1" 

" Mrs. Bertram, you know nothing of these matters. Do you 
think it becomes a magistrate to let his own house be made a 
receptacle for smuggled goods 1 Frank Kennedy will show 
you the penalties in the act, and ye ken yoursell they used to 
put their run goods into the Auld Place of Ellangowan up by 
there." 

" Oh, dear, Mr. Bertram, and what the waur were the wa'F 
and the vault o' the auld castle for having a whin kegs o' brandy 
in them at an orra time 1 I am sure ye were not obliged to 
ken onything about it ; — and what the waur was the King that 
the lairds here got a soup o' drink, and the ladies their drap o' 
tea, at a reasonable rate 9 — ^it's a shame to them to pit such teExes 
on them ! — ^and was na I much the better of these Flanders 
head and pinners, that Dirk Hatteraick sent me a' the way from 
Antwerp? It will be lang or the King sends me onything, 
or Frank Kennedy either. — ^And then ye would quarrel with 
these gipsies too 1 I expect every day to hear the barn-yard's in 
a low." 

*' I tell you once more, my dear, you don't understand these 
things — and there's Frank Kennedy coming galloping up the 



avenue." 



" Aweel, aweel, Ellangowan," said the lady, raising her voice 
as the Laird left the room, '^ I wish ye may understand them 
yoursell, that's a' !" 

From this nuptial dialogue the Laird joyfully escaped to meet 
his faithful friend, Mr. Kennedy, who arrived in high spirits. 



GUY MANNERmO. 69 

" For the love of life, Ellangowan," he said, " get up to the 
castle ! you'U see that old fox Dirk Hatteraick, and his 
Majesty*8 hounds in fuU cry after him." So saying, he flung hia 
horse's bridle to a boy, and ran up the ascent to the old castle, 
followed by the Laird, and indeed by several others of the 
family,' alarmed by the sound of guns from the sea, now dis- 
tinctly heard. 

On gaining that part of the ruins which commanded the 
most extensive outlook, they saw a lugger, with all her canvas 
crowded, standing across the bay, closely piursued by a sloop of 
war, that kept firing upon the chase from her bows, which the 
lugger returned with her stem-chasers. " They're but at long 
bowls yet," cried Kennedy, in great exultation, " but they wiU 

be closer by and by. 1> — n him, he's starting his cargo ! I 

see the good Nantz pitching overboard; keg after keg ! — that's 

a d d ungenteel thing of Mr. Hatteraick, as I shall let him 

know by and by. — Now, now ! they've got the wind of him I — 
that's it, that's it ! — Hark to him ! hark to him ! Now, my 
dogs ! now, my dogs ! — hark to Ranger, hark !" 

" I think," said the old gardener to one of the maids, " the 
ganger's /«;" by which word the common people express those 
violent spirits which they think a presage of death. 

Meantime the chase continued. The lugger, being piloted 
with great ability, and using every nautical shift to make her 
escape, had now reached, and was about to double the headland 
which formed the extreme point of land on the left side of the 
bay, when a ball having hit the yard in the sUn^, the mainsaU 
fell upon the deck. The consequence of this accident appeared 
inevitable, but could not be seen by the spectators; for the 
vessel, which had just doubled the headland, lost steerage, and 
fell out of their sight behind the promontory. The sloop of war 
crowded all sail to pursue, but she had stood too close upon the 
cape, so that they were obliged to wear the vessel for fear of 
going ashore, and to make a large tack back into the bay, in 
order to recover sea-room enough to double the headland. 

" They'll lose her, by ! — cargo and lugger, one or both," 

said Kennedy. " I must gallop away to the Point of Warroch, 
(this was the headland so often mentioned), and make them a 
signal where she has drifted to on the other side. Good-by for 
an hour, Ellangowan — ^get out the gaUon punch-bowl, and 
plenty of lemons. I'll stand for the French article by the time 



70 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

I come back, and we'll drink the young Laird's health in a 
bowl that would swim the Collector's yawl." So saying, he 
mounted his horse and galloped off. 

About a mile from the house, and upon the verge of the 
woods, which, as we have said, covered a promontory termi- 
nating in the cape called the Point of Warroch, Kennedy met 
young Harry Bertram, attended by his tutor. Dominie Sampson. 
He had often promised the child a ride upon his galloway; 
and, from singing, dancing, and playing Punch for his amuse- 
ment, was a particular favourite. He no sooner came scamper- 
ing up the path, than the boy loudly claimed his promise ; and 
Kennedy, who saw no risk in indulging him, and wished to 
tease the Dominie, in whose visage he read a remonstrance, 
caught up Harry from the ground, placed him before him, 
and continued his route ; Sampson's " Peradventure, Master 

Kennedy " ^being lost in the clatter of his horse's feet. The 

pedagogue hesitated a moment whether he should go after 
them; but Kennedy being a person in full confidence of tlie 
family, and with whom he himself had no delight in associat- 
ing, " being that he was addicted unto profane and scurrilous 
jests," he continued his own walk at his own pace, till he 
reached the Place of Ellangowan. 

The spectators from the ruined walls of the castle were still 
watching the sloop of war, which at length, but not without 
the loss of considerable time, recovered sea-room enough to 
weather the Point of Warroch, and was lost to their sight 
behind that wooded promontory. Some time afterwards the 
discharges of several cannon were heard at a distance, and, 
after an interval, a still louder explosion, as of a vessel blown 
up, and a cloud of smoke rose above the trees, and mingled 
with the blue sky. All then separated on their different occa- 
sions, auguring variously upon the fate of the smuggler, but the 
majority insisting that her capture was inevitable, if she had 
not already gone to the bottom. 

" It is near our dinner-time, my dear," said Mrs. Bertram to 
her husband; "will it be lang before Mr. Kennedy comes 
backl" 

" I expect him every moment, my dear," said the Laird ; 
'.* perhaps he is bringing some of the officers of the sloop with 
him." 

" My stars, Mr. Bertram ! why did not ye teU me this before, 



GUY MANNERING. " 71 

that we might have had the large round table? and then, 
they're a' tired o* saut meat, and, to tell you the plain truth, a 
rump o' beef is the best part of your dinner — and then I wad 
have put on another gown, and ye wadna have been the waur 
0* a dean neckcloth yoursell — But ye delight in surprising and 
hiinying one — I am sure I am no to hand out for ever against 
this sort of going on. — But when folk's missed, then they are 
moaned." 

" Pshaw ! pshaw ! deuce take the beef, and the gown, and 
table, and the neckcloth ! — ^we shall do aU very well. — Where's 
the Dominie, John? — (to a servant who was busy about the 
table) — ^Where's the Dominie and little Harry]" 

^* Mr. Sampson's been at hame these twa hours and mair, but 
I dinna think Mr. Harry came hame wi' him." 

"Not come hame wi' him?" said the lady; "desire Mr. 
Sampson vo step this way directly." 

" Mr. Sampson," said she, upon his entrance, " is it not the 
most extraordinary thing in this world wide, that you, that 
have free up-putting — ^bed, board, and washing — ^and twelve 
pounds sterling a year, just to look after that boy, should let 
him out of your sight for twa or three hours?" 

Sampson made a bow of humble* acknowledgment at each 
pause which the augry lady made in her enumeration of the 
advantages of his situation, in order to give more weight to her 
remonstrance, and then, in words which we will not do him the 
iiyustice to imitate, told how Mr. Francis Kennedy "had 
assimied spontaneously the charge of Master Harry, in despite 
of his remonstrances in the contrary." 

" I am very little obliged to Mr. Fi-ancis Kennedy for his 
pains," said the lady peevishly ; " suppose he lets the boy drop 
from his horse, and lames him ? — or suppose one of the cannons 
comes ashore and kills him 1 — or suppose" 

"Or suppose, my dear," said EUangowan, "what is much 
more likely than anything else, that they have gone aboard the 
sloop or the prize, and are to come round the Point with the 
tide r 

" And then they may be drowned," said the lady. 

" Verily," said Sampson, " I thought Mr. Kennedy had re- 
turned an hour since—Of a surety, I deemed I heard his horse's 
feet." 



72 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

" That," said John, with a broad grin, " was Grizzel chasing 
the humble-cow* out of the close." 

Sampson coloured up to the eyes — ^not at the implied taunt, 
which he would never have discovered, or resented if he had, 
but at some idea which crossed his own mind. " I have been 
in an error," he said, " of a surety I should have tarried for the 
babe." So saying, he snatched his bone-headed cane and hat, 
and hurried away towards Warroch wood, faster than he was 
ever known to walk before, or after. 

The Laird lingered some time, debating the point with the 
lady. At length he saw the doop of war again make her 
appearance; but, without approaching the shore, she stood 
away to the westward, with all her sails set, and was soon out 
of sight. The lady's state of timorous and fretful apprehension 
was so habitual, that her fears went for nothing with her lord 
and master; but an appearance of distflrbance and anxiety 
among the servants now excited his alarm, especially when he 
was called out of the room, and told in private that Mr. 
Kennedy's horse had come to the stable door alone, with the 
saddle turned round below its belly and the reins of the bridle 
broken ; and that a farmer had informed them in passing that 
there was a smuggling lugger burning like a furnace on the 
other side of the Point of Warroch, and that, though he had 
come through the wood, he had seen or heard nothing of Kennedy 
or the young Laird, " only there was Dominie Sampson, gaun 
rampauging about, like mad, seeking for them." 

All was now bustle at Ellangowan. The Laird and his 
servants, male and female, hastened to the wood of Warroclu 
The tenants and cottagers in the neighbourhood lent their 
assistance, partly out of zeal, partly from curiosity. Boats were 
manned to search the sea-shore, which, on the other side of the 
Point, rose into high and indented rocks. A vague suspicion 
was entertained, though too horrible to be expressed, that the 
child might have fallen from one of these clifs. 

The evening had begun to close when the parties entered the 
wood, and dispersed different ways in quest of the boy and his 
companion. The darkening of the atmosphere and the hoarse 
sighs of the November wind through the naked trees, the 
rustling of the withered leaves which strewed the glades, the 
repeated halloos of the different parties, which often drew them 

* A cow without horns. 



OUT MANNEKINO, 78 

together in expectation of meeting the objects of their search, 
gave a cast of dismal sublimity to the scene. 

At length, after a minute and fruitless investigation through 
the wood, the searchers began to draw together into one body 
and to compare notes. The agony of the father grew beyond 
concealment, yet it scarcely equalled the anguish of the tutor. 
" Would to God I had died for him !" the affectionate creature 
repeated, in tones of the deepest distress. Those who were less 
interested, rushed into a tumultuary discussion of chances and 
possibUities. Each gave his opinion, and each was alternately 
swayed by that of the others. Some thought the objects of 
their search had gone aboard the sloop ; some, that they had 
gone to a village at three miles distance ; some whispered they 
might have been on board the lugger, a few planks and beams 
of which the tide now drifted ashore. 

At this instant, a shout was heard from the beach, so loud, 
so shrill, so piercing, so different from every sound which the 
woods that day had rung to, that nobody hesitated a moment 
to believe that it conveyed tidings, and tidings of dreadful 
import. All hurried to the place, and, venturing without 
scruple upon paths which at another time they would have 
shuddered to look at, descended towards a cleft of the rock, 
where one boat's crew was already landed. " Here, sirs ! — 
here ! — ^this way, for God's sake ! — this way ! this way !" was 
the reiterated cry. — EUangowan broke through the throng 
which had already assembled at the fatal spot, and beheld the 
object of their terror. It was the dead body of Kennedy. At 
first sight he seemed to have perished by a fall from the rocks, 
which rose above the spot on which he lay, in a perpendicular 
precipice of a hundred feet above the beach. The corpse was 
lying half in, half out of the water ; the advancing tide, raising 
the arm and stirring the clothes, had given it at some distance 
the appearance of motion, so that those who first discovered the 
body thought that life remained. But every spark had been 
long extinguished. 

" My bairn ! my baim !" cried the distracted father, " where 
can he be ]" — ^A dozen mouths were open to communicate hopes 

which no one felt. Some one at length mentioned the 

gipsies ! In a moment EUangowan had reascended the cliffs, 
flung himself upon the first horse he met, and rode furiously to 
the huts at Demdeugh. All was there dark and desolate ; and 



74 WAVERLET NOVELS. 

88 he dismounted to make more minute search, he stumbled 
over fragments of furniture which had been thrown out of the 
cottages, and the broken wood and thatch which had been 
pulled down by his orders. At that moment the prophecy or 
anathema of Meg Merrilies fell heavy on his mind. "You 
have stripped the thatch from seven cottages, — see that the 
roof-tree of your own house stand the surer !" 

" Restore," he cried, " restore my bairn ! bring me back my 
son, and all shall be forgot and forgiven !" As he uttered these 
words in a sort of frenzy, his eye caught a glimmering of light 
in one of the dismantled cottages — ^it was that in which Meg 
Merrilies formerly resided. The light, which seemed to proceed 
from fire, glimmered not only through the window, but also 
through the rafters of the hut where the roofing had been 
torn off. 

He flew to the place ; the entrance was bolted : despair gave 
tiie miserable father the strength of ten men : he rushed against 
the door with such violence, that it gave way before the moment 
tvm of his weight and force. The cottage was empty, but bore 
marks of recent habitation : there was fire on the hearth, a 
kettle, and some preparation for food. As he eagerly gazed 
round for something that might confirm his hope that his child 
yet lived, although in the power of those strange people, a man 
entered the hut. 

It was his old gardener. "Oh sir !" said the old man, "such 
a night as this I trusted never to live to see ! — ^ye maun come to 
the Place directly !" 

" Is my boy found 1 — is he alive ? — have ye found Harry 
Bertram ?-— Andrew, have ye found Hany Bertram 1" 

" No, sir ; but " 

" Then he is kidnapped ! I am sure of it, Andrew — as sure 
as that I tread upon earth ! She has stolen him — and I will 
never stir from this place till I have tidings of my bairn !" 

" 0, but ye maun come hame, sir ! ye maun come hame ! we 
have sent for the Sheriff, and we'U set a watch here a' night, in 

case the gipsies return ; but ycm — ye maun eome hame, sir, 

for my lady's in the dead-thraw."* 

Bertram turned a stupefied and unmeaning eye on the 
messenger who uttered this calamitous news; and, repeating 
the words " in the dead-thraw 1" as if he could not comprehend 

* Death-agony. 



GUY MV^JWERINO. 76 

their meaniDg, Buffered the old man to drag him towards hia 
horse. During the ride home, he only said, '* Wife and bairn, 
baith — mother and son, baith — Sair, sair to abide 1" 

It is needless to dwell upon the new scene of agony which 
awaited him. The news of Kennedy's fate had been eagerly 
and incautiously communicated at Ellangowan, with the gra- 
tuitous addition, that, doubtless, "he had drawn the young 
Laird over the craig with him, though the tide had swept away 
the child's body — he was light, puir thing ! and would flee 
farther into the surf." 

Mrs. Bertram heard the tidings ; she was far advanced in her 
pregnancy ; she fell into the pains of premature labour, and ere 
Ellangowan had recovered his agitated faculties, so as to com- 
prehend the full distress of his situation, he was the father of a 
female infant, and a widower. 



CHAPTEK TENTH. 

But see his face is black, and full of blood ; 

His eye-balls farther out than when he lived, 

Staring fuU ghastly like a strangled man ; 

His hair upreared, his nostrils stretched with struggling, 

Uis hands abroad displayed, as one that gasped 

And tugged for life, and was by strength subdued. 

Henry VI. Part Second. 

The Sheriff-depute of the county arrived at Ellangowan next 
morning by daybreak. To this provincial magistrate the law 
of Scotland assigns judicial powers of considerable extent, and 
the task of inquiring into all crimes committed within his 
jurisdiction, the apprehension and commitment of suspected 
persons, and so forth.* 

The gentleman who held the office in the shire of at 

the time of this catastrophe, was well bom and well educated ; 
and, though somewhat pedantic and professional in his habits, 
he enjoyed general respect as an active and intelligent magis 
trate. His first employment was to examine all witnesses 
whose evidence could thiow light upon this mysterious event, 

* The Scottish Sheriff discharges, on such occasions as that now men- 
tioned, pretty much the same duty as a Ck>roner. 



76 WAVERLEY N0VE15. 

and mate up the written report, proc^ verbal, or precognition, 
as it is technically called, which the practice of Scotland has 
substituted for a coroner's inquest. Under the Sheriff's minute 
and skilful inquiry, many circumstances appeared which seemed 
incompatible with the original opinion that Kennedy had 
accidentally fallen from the cliff. We shall briefly detail some 
of these. 

The body had been deposited in a neighbouring fisher-hut, 
but without altering the condition in which it was found. This 
was the first object of the Sheriff's examination. Though 
fearfuUy crushed and mangled by the faU from such a height, 
the corpse was found to exhibit a deep cut in the head, which, 
in the opinion of a skUful surgeon, must have been inflicted 
by a broadsword, or cutlass. The experience of this gentleman 
discovered other suspicious indications. The face was much 
blackened, the eyes distorted, and the veins of the neck swelled. 
A. coloured handkerchief, which the imfortunate man wore 
round his neck, did not present the usual appearance, but was 
much loosened, and the knot displaced and (tagged extremely 
tight : the folds were also compressed, as if it had been used as 
a means of grappling the deceased, and dragging him perhaps to 
the precipice. 

On the other hand, poor Kennedy's purse was found un- 
touched ; and what seemed yet more extraordinary, the pistols 
which he usually carried when about to encounter any hazardous 
adventure, were found in his pockets loaded. This appeared 
particularly strange, for he was known and dreaded by the 
contraband traders as a man equally fearless and dexterous in 
the use of his weapons, of which he had given many signal 
proofs. The Sheriff inquired, whether Kennedy was not in the 
practice of carrying any other arms. Most of Mr. Bertram's 
servants recollected that he generally had a eouteau de chasse, 
or short hanger, but none such was found upon the dead body ; 
nor could those who had seen him on the morning of the fatal 
day, take it upon them to assert whether he then carried that 
weapon or not. 

The corpse afforded no other indicia respecting the fate of 
Kennedy ; for though the clothes were much displaced, and the 
limbs dreadfully fractured, the one seemed the probable, the 
other the certain, consequences of such a fall. The hands of 



GUY MANNERING. 77 

the deceased were clenched iaat, and full of turf and earth ; but 
this also seemed equivocal. 

The magistrate then proceeded to the place where the corpse 
was first discovered, and made those who had found it give, upon 
the spot, a particular and detailed account of the manner in 
which it was lying. A large firagment of the rock appeared to 
have accompanied, or followed the fall of the victim from the 
diff above. It was of so solid and compact a substance, that 
it had fallen, without any great diminution by splintering, so 
that the Sheriff was enabled, first to estimate the weight by 
measurement, and then to calculate, from the appearance of 
the fragment, what portion of it had been bedded into the cliff 
from which it had descended. This was easily detected by the 
raw appearance of the stone where it had not been exposed to 
the a^osphere : they then ascended the cliff and surveyed the 
place from whence the stony fragment had fallen. It seemed 
plain, firom the appearance of the bed, that the mere weight of 
one man standing upon the projecting part of the fragment, 
supposing it in its original situation, could not have destroyed 
its balance, and precipitated it, with himself, from the cliff 
At the same time, it appeared to have lain so loose, that the 
use of a lever, or the combined strength of three or four men, 
might easily have hurled it from its position. The short turf 
about the brmk of the precipice was much trampled, as if stamped 
by the heels of men m a mortal struggle, or in the act of some 
violent exertion. Traces of the same kind, less visibly marked, 
guided the sagacious investigator to the verge of the copsewood, 
which in that place crept high up the bank towards the top of 
the precipice. 

With patience and perseverance, they traced these marks 
into the thickest part of the copse, a route which no person 
would have voluntarily adopted, unless for the purpose of con- 
cealment. Here they found plain vestiges of violence and 
struggling, from space to space. Small boughs were torn down, 
as if grasped by some resisting wretch, who was dragged forcibly 
along ; the ground, where in the least degree soft or marshy, 
showed the print of many feet ; there were vestiges also, which 
might be those of human blood. At any rate, it was certain 
that several persons must have forced their passage among the 
oaks, hazels, and underwood, with which they were mingled ; 
and in some places appeared traces as if a sack fidl of grain, a 



78 WAVERLBY NOVELS. 

dead body, or something of that heavy and solid description, 
had been dragged along the ground. In one part of the thicket 
there was a small swamp, the clay of which was whitish, being 
probably mixed with marl -The back of Kennedy's coat ap- 
peared besmeared with stains of the same colour. 

At length, about a quarter of a mile firom the brink of the 
fatal precipice, the traces conducted them to a small open 
space of ground, very much trampled, and plainly stained with 
blood, although withered leaves had been strewed upon the 
spot, and other means hastily taken to efface the marks, which 
seemed obviously to have been derived from a desperate afl5ray. 
On one side of this patch of open ground, was found the 
sufferer's naked hanger, which seemed to have been thrown 
into the thicket ; on the other, the belt and sheath, which 
appeared to have been hidden with more leisurely care and 
precaution. 

The magistrate caused the foot-prints which marked this spot 
to be carefully measured and examined. Some corresponded to 
the foot of the unhappy victim ; some were larger, some less ; 
indicating that at least four or five men had been busy around 
him. Above all, here, and here only, were observed the vestiges 
of a child's foot ; and as it could be seen nowhere else, and the 
hard horse-track which traversed the wood of Warroch was 
contiguous to the spot, it was natural to think that the boy 
might have escaped in that direction duriag the confusion. 
But as he was never heard of, the Sheriff, who made a careful 
entry of all these memoranda, did not suppress his opinion that 
the deceased had met with foul play, and that the murderers, 
whoever they were, had possessed themselves of the person of 
the child Harry Bertram. 

Every exertion was now made to discover the criminals. 
Suspicion hesitated between the smugglers and the gipsies. 
The fate of Dirk Hatteraick's vessel was certain. Two men 
from the opposite side of Warroch Bay (so the inlet on the 
southern side of the Point of Warroch is called) had seen, 
though at a great distance, the lugger drive eastward, after 
doubling the headland, and, as they judged £rom her manoeuvres, 
in a disabled state. Shortly after, they perceived that she 
grounded, smoked, and finally took fire. She was, as one of 
them expressed himself, in a light low (bright flame) when 
they observed a king's ship, with her oolours up, heave in 



GUY MANNERING. 79 

sight from behind the cape. The guns of the burning vessel 
dischaiged themsehres as the fire reached them ; and they saw 
her at length blow up with a great explosion. The sloop of 
war kept aloof for her own safety ; and after hovering till the 
other exploded, stood away southward under a press of sail. 
The Sheriff anxiously interrogated these men whether any boats 
had left the vessel. They could not say — they had seen none— 
but they might have put off in such a direction as placed the 
burning vessel, and the thick smoke which floated landward 
from it, between their course and the witnesses' observation. 

That the ship destroyed was Dirk Hatteraick's, no one 
doubted. His lugger was well known on the coast, and had 
been expected just at this time. A letter from the conmiander 
of the king's sloop, to whom the Sheriff made application, put 
the matter beyond doubt ; he sent also an extract from his log- 
book of the transactions of the day, which intimated their being 
on the outlook for a smuggling lugger. Dirk Hatteraick master, 
upon the information and requisition of Francis Kennedy, of 
his Msgesty's excise service ; and that Kennedy waa to be upon 
the outlook on the shore, in case Hatteraick, who was known to 
be a desperate fellow, and had been repeatedly outlawed, should 
attempt to run his sloop aground. About nine o'clock, a.m. 
they discovered a sail, which answered the description of 
Hatteraick's vessel, chased her, and after repeated signals to 
her to show colours and bring to, fired upon her. The chase 
then showed Hamburgh colours, and returned the fire ; and a 
running fight was maintained for three hours, when, just as the 
lugger waa doubling the Point of Warroch, they observed that 
the main-yard was shot in the slings, and that the vessel was 
disabled. It was not in the power of the man-of-war's men for 
some time to profit by the circumstance, owing to their having 
kept too much in shore for doubling the headland. After two 
tacks, they accomplished this, and observed the chase on fire, 
and apparently deserted. The fire having reached some casks 
of spirits, which were placed on the deck, with other combus- 
tibles, probably on purpose, burnt with such fiiry, that no boats 
durst approach the vessel, especially as her shotted guns were 
discharging, one after another, by iJie heat. The captain had 
no doubt whatever that the crew had set the vessel on fire, and 
escaped in their boats. After watching the conflagration till 
the ship blew up, his Msgesty's sloop, the Shark, stood towards 



80 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

the Isle of Man, with the purpose of intercepting the retreat of 
the smugglers, who, though they might conceal themselves in the 
woods for a day or two, would probably take the first opportunity 
of endeavouring to make for this asylum. But they never saw 
more of them than is above narrated. 

Such was the account given by William Pritchard, master 
and commander of his Majesty's sloop of war Shark, who con- 
cluded by regretting deeply that he had not had the happiness 
to fall in with the scoundrels, who had had the impudence to 
fire on his Mtgest/s flag, and with an assurance, that, should 
he meet Mr. Dirk Hatteraick in any future cruise, he would not 
fail to bring him into port under his stem, to answer whatever 
might be alleged against hun. 

As, therefore, it seemed tolerably certain that the men on 
board the lugger had escaped, the death of Kennedy, if he fell 
in with them in the woods, when irritated by the loss of their • 

vessel, and by the share he had in it, was easily to be accounted * 

for. And it was not improbable, that to such brutal tempers, 
rendered desperate by their own circumstances, even the murder 
of the child, against whose father, as having become suddenly 
active in the prosecution of smugglers, Hatteraick was known 
to have uttered deep threats, would not appear a very heinous 
crime. 

Against this hypothesis it was urged, that a crew of fifteen 
or twenty men could not have lain hidden upon the coast when 
so close a search took place immediately after the destruction 
of their vessel ; or, at least, that if they had hid themselves in 
the woods, their boats must have been seen on the beach ; — 
that in such precarious circumstances, and when all retreat 
must have seemed difficult, if not impossible, it was not to be 
thought that they would have all united to commit a useless 
murder, for the mere sake of revenge. Those who held this 
opinion supposed, either that the boats of the lugger had stood 
out to sea without being observed by those who were intent 
upon gazing at the burning vessel, and so gained safe distance 
before the sloop got round the headland ; or else, that, the 
boats being staved or destroyed by the fire of the shot during 
the chase, the crew had obstinately determined to perish with 
the vessel. What gave some countenance to this supposed act 
of desperation was, that neither Dirk Hatteraick nor any of his 
sailors, all well-known men in the fiur-trade, were again seen 



GUY MANNERIKG. 81 

upon that coast, or heard of in the Isle of Man, where ^rict 
mquiry was made. On the other hand, only one dead body, 
apparently that of a seamen killed by a cannonnshot, drifted 
ashore. So all that could be done was to register the names, 
description, and appearance of the individuals belonging to the 
ship's company, and offer a reward for the apprehension of 
them, or any one of them ; extending also to any person, not 
the actual murderer, who should give evidence tending to convict 
those who had murthered Francis Kennedy. 

Another opinion, which was also plausibly supported, went to 
charge this horrid crime upon the late tenants of Demcleugh. 
They were known to have resented highly the conduct of the 
Laird of Ellangowan towards them, and to have used threatening 
expressions, which every one supposed them capable of carrying 
into effect. The kidnapping the child was a crime much more 
consistent with their habits than with those of smugglers, and 
his temponuy guardian might have fallen in an attempt to 
protect him. Besides, it was remembered that Kennedy 
had been an active agent, two or three days before, in the 
forcible expulsion of these people from Derncleugh, and that 
harsh and menacing language had been exchanged between 
him and some of the Egyptian patriarchs on that memorable 
occasion. 

The Sheriff received also the depositions of the unfortunate 
father and his servant, concerning what had passed at their 
meeting the caravan of gipsies, as they left the estate of Ellan- 
gowan. The speech of Meg Merrilies seemed particularly 
suspicious. There was, as the magistrate observed in his law 
language, da/mnwrn, minatwm — a damage, or evil turn, threat- 
ened, and mcUtrnt secutv/m — ^an evil of the very kind predicted, 
shortly afterwards following. A young woman, who had been 
gathering nuts in Warroch wood upon the fatal day, was also 
strongly of opinion, though she declined to make positive oath, 
that she had seen Meg Merrilies, at least a woman of her 
remarkable size and appearance, start suddenly out of a thicket 
— she said she had called to her by name, but, as the figure 
turned from her, and made no answer, she was uncertain if it 
were the gipsy or her wraith, and was afiuid to go nearer to 
one who was always reckoned, in the vulgar phrase, ru) ca/nny. 
This vague stoiy received some corroboration from the circum- 
stance of a fire being that evening found in the gipsy's deserted 

VOL. IT. o 



82 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

cottage. To this fact Ellangowan and his gardener bore 
evidence. Yet it seemed extravagant to suppose, that, had 
this woman been accessory to such a dreadful crime, she would 
have returned that veiy evening on which it was committed, to 
the place of all others, where she was most likely to be 
sought after. 

Meg Merrilies was, however, apprehended and examined. 
She denied strongly having been either at Demcleugh or in the 
wood of Warroch upon the day of Kennedy's death; and 
several of her tribe made oath in her behalf, that she had never 
quitted their encampment, which was in a glen, about ten miles 
distant from Ellangowan. Their oaths were indeed little to be 
trusted to ; — but what other evidence could be had in the cir- 
cumstances? There was one remarkable fact, and only one, 
which arose from her examination. Her arm appeared to be 
slightly wounded by the cut of a sharp weapon, and was tied 
up with a handkerchief of Harry Bertram's. But the chief of 
the horde acknowledged he had " corrected her " that day with 
his whinger — she herself, and others, gave the same account of 
her hurt ; and for the handkerchief, the quantity of linen stolen * 
from Ellangowan during the last months of their residence on 
the estate, easily accounted for it, without charging Meg with a 
more heinous crime. 

It was observed, upon her examination, that she treated the 
questions respecting the death of Kennedy, or " the ganger," as 
she called him, with indifference ; but expressed great and 
emphatic scorn and indignation at being supposed capable of 
injuring little Harry Bertram. She was long confined in gaol 
under the hope that something might yet be discovered to throw 
light upon this dark and bloody transaction. Nothing, however, 
occurred ; and Meg was at length liberated, but under sentence 
of banishment from the county as a vagrant, common thief, and 
disorderly person. No traces of the boy could ever be dis- 
covered ; and, at length, the story, after making much noise, 
was gradually given up as altogether inexplicable, and only 
perpetuated by the name of " The Ganger's Loup," which was 
generally bestowed on the cliflf from which the unfortunate man 
had fallen or been precipitated. 



0X7T MANNEBINa. 83 



CHAPTER ELEVENTH. 

Enter Timey as Chorus. 

I — that please some, try all ; both Joy and terror 

Of good and bad ; that make and unfold error — 

Now take upon me, in the name of Time, 

To use my wings. Impute it not a crime 

To me, or my swift passage, that I slide 

O'er sixteen years, and leave the growth untried 

Of that wide gap. 

Wintbr's Talb. 

OxTR narration is now about to make a large stride, and omit a 
space of nearly seventeen years ; during which nothing occurred 
of any particular consequence with respect to the story we have 
undertaken to teU. The gap is a wide one ; yet if the reader's 
experience in life enables him to look back on so many years, 
the space wiU scarce appear longer in his recollection than the 
time consumed in turning these pages. 

It was, then, in the month of November, about seventeen 
years after the catastrophe related in the last chapter, that, 
during a cold and stormy night, a social group had closed round 
the kitchen-fire of the Gordon Arms at Kippletringan, a small 
but comfortable inn, kept by Mrs. Mac-Candlish in that village. 
The conversation which passed among them will save me the 
trouble of telling the few events occurring during this chasm in 
our history, with which it is necessary that the reader should 
be acquainted. 

Mrs. Mac-Oandlish, throned in a comfortable easy chair lined 
with black leather, was regaling herself, and a neighbouring 
gossip or two, with a cup of genuine tea, and at the same time 
keeping a sharp eye upon her domestics, as they went and came 
in prosecution of their various duties and commissions. The 
derk and precentor of the parish enjoyed at a little distance 
his Saturday night's pipe, and aided its bland fumigation by an 
occasional sip of brandy and water. Deacon Beardiff, a man of 
great importance in the village, combined the indulgence of both 
parties — ^he had his pipe and his tea-cup, the latter being laced 
with a little spirits. One or two clowns sat at some distance, 
drinking their twopenny ale. 



84 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

" Are ye sure the parlour's ready for them, and the fire burn- 
ing clear, and the chiumey no smoking f' said the hostess to a 
chambermaid. 

She was answered in the aflGumative. — " Ane wadna be un- 
civil to them, especially in their distress," said she, turning to 
the Deacon. 

"Assuredly not, Mrs. Mac-Candlish ; assuredly not. I am 
sure ony sma' thing they might want frae my shop, under seven, 
or eight, or ten pounds, I would book them as readily for it 
as the first in the country. — ^Do they come in the auld chaise ?" 

"I dare say no," said the precentor; "for Miss Bertram 
comes on the white powny ilka day to the kirk — and a constant 
kirk-keeper she is — and it's a pleasure to hear her singing the 
psalms, winsome young thing." 

" Ay, and the young Laird of Hazlewood rides hame half the 
road wi' her after sermon," said one of the gossips in company ; 
" I wonder how auld Hazlewood likes that." 

" I kenna how he may like it now," answered another of the 
tea-drinkers ; " but the day has been when Ellangowan wad hae 
liked as little to see his daughter taking up with their son." 

" Ay, has hem" answered the first, with somewhat of em 
phasis. 

" I am sure, neighbour Ovens," said the hostess, " the Hazl©« 
woods of Hazlewood, though they are a very gude auld family 
in the county, never thought, till within these twa score o' years, 
of evening themselves till the Ellangowaus. — ^Wow, woman, the 
Bertrams of Ellangowan are the auld Dingawaies lang syne — 
there is a sang about ane o' them manying a daughter of the 
King of Man ; it begins, 

Blythe Bertram's ta'en him ower the faem. 
To wed a wife and bring her hame 

I daur say Mr. Skreigh can sing us the ballant." 

" Gudewife," said Skreigh, gathering up his mouth, and sip- 
ping his tiff of brandy punch with great solenmity, " our talents 
were gien us to other use than to sing daft auld sangs sae near 
the Sabbath-day." 

" Hout fie, Mr. Skreigh ; I'se warrant I hae heard yon sing 
a blythe sang on Saturday at e'en before now. — But as for the 
chaise, Deacon, it haana been oat of the coach-house since Mrs. 
Bertram died, that's sixteen or seventeen yeans sin syne. — Jock 



GUY MANNERING. 85 

Jabos is away wi' a chaise of mine for them ; — I wonder he's 
no come back. It's pit mirk — ^but there's no an ill turn on the 
road but twa, and the brigg ower Warroch bum is safe enough, 
if he haud to the right side. But then there's Heaviside-brae, 
that's just a murder for post-cattle — ^but Jock kens the road 
brawly." 

A loud rapping was heard at the door. 

"That's no them. I didna hear the wheels. — Grizzel, ye 
limmer, gang to the door." 

" It's a single gentleman," whined out Grizzel ; " maun I 
take him into the parlour ?" 

"Foul be in your feet, then; it'll be some English rider. 
Coming without a servant at this time o' night 1 — Has the ostler 
ta'en the horse ? — ^Ye may light a spunk o' fire in the red room." 

" I wish, ma'am," said the traveller, entering the kitchen, 
" you would give me leave to warm myself here, for the night is 
very cold." 

His appearance, voice, and manner, produced an instantaneous 
effect in his favour. He was a handsome, tall, thin figure, dressed 
in black, as appeared when he laid aside his riding-coat ; his 
age might be between forty and fifty ; his cast of features grave 
and interesting, and his air somewhat military. Every point 
of his appearance and address bespoke the gentleman. Long 
habit had given Mrs. Mac-Candlish an acute tact in ascertain- 
ing the quality of her visitors, and proportioning her reception 
accordingly : — 

To every guest the appropriate speech was made, 

And every duty with distinction paid ; 

Bespectfol, easy, pleasant, or polite — 

"Your honour's servant I — Mister Smith, good night." 

On the present occasion, she was low in her curtsey, and 
profuse in her apologies. The stranger begged his horse might 
be attended to-— she went out herself to school the ostler. 

" There was never a prettier bit o' horse flesh in the stable o' 
the Gordon Anns," said the man ; which information increased 
the landlady's respect for the rider. Finding, on her return, 
that the stranger declined to go into another apartment (which, 
indeed, she allowed, would be but cold and smoky till the fire 
bleezed up), she installed her guest hospitably by the fireside, 
and offered what refreshment her house afforded. 

" A cup of your tea, ma'am, if you will tiavour me." 



«6 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

Mrs. Mac-Gandlish bustled about, reinforced her teapot with 
hyson, and proceeded in her duties with her best grace. " We 
have a veiy nice parlour, sir, and everything very agreeable for 
gentlefolks; but it's bespoke the-night for a gentleman and 
his daught^, that are going to leave this part of the country — 
ane of my chaises is gane for them, and will be back forthwith. 
They're no sae weel in the warld as they have been ; but we're a' 
subject to ups and downs in this life, as your honour must needs 
ken — ^but is not the tobacco-reek disagreeable to your honour?" 

'' By no means, ma'am ; I am an old campaigner, and perfectly 
used to it. — ^Will you permit me to make some inquiries about a 
family in this neighbourhood ?" 

The sound of wheels was now heard, and the landlady 
hurried to the door to receive her expected guests ; but returned 
in an instant, followed by the postilion. — "No, they canna 
come at no rate, the Laird's sae ilL" 

"But God help them !" said the landlady, "the mom's the 
term — ^the very last day they can bide in the house — a' thing's 
to be roupit." 

" Weel, but they can come at no rate, I tell ye — Mr. Bertram 
canna be moved." 

" What Mr. Bertram V said the stranger ; " not Mr. Bertram 
of Ellangowan, I hope 1" 

" Just e'en that same, sir ; and if ye be a friend o' his, ye 
have come at a time when he's sair bested." 

" I have been abroad for many years ; — ^is his health so much 
deranged]" 

" Ay, and his affairs an' a'," said the Deacon ; " the creditors 
have entered into possession o' the estate, and it's for sale ; and 
some that made the maist by him — I name nae names, but 
Mrs. Mac-Candlish kens wha I mean" — (the landlady shook her 
head significantly) — " they're sairest on him e'en now. I have 
a sma' matter due mysell, but I would rather have lost it than 
gane to turn the auld man out of his house, and him just dying." 

" Ay, but," said the parish-derk, " Factor Glossin wants to 
get rid of the auld Laird, and drive on the sale, for fear the 
heir-male should cast up upon them ; for I have heard say, if 
there was an heir-male, they couldna sell the estate for auld 
EUangowan's debt." 

"He had a son bom a good many years ago," said the 
stranger ; " he is dead, I suppose ?" 



GUT MANNERING. 87 

*' Nae man can say for that/' answered the clerk mysterioosly. 

''Dead!" said the Deacon; 'Tse warrant him dead lang 
syne ; he hasna been heard o' these twenty years or thereby." 

" I wot weel it's no twenty years," said the landlady ; " it's 
no abune seventeen at the outside in this very month ; it made 
an unco noise ower a' this country — ^the bairn disappeared the 
veiy day that Supervisor Kennedy cam by his end. — If ye 
kenn'd this country lang syne, your honour wad maybe ken 
Frank Kennedy the Supervisor. He was a heartsome pleasant 
man, and company for the best gentleman in the county, and 
muckle mirth he's made in this house. I was young then, sir, 
and newly married to Bailie Mac-Candlish, that's dead and 
gone-(a sigh>--and muckle fon IVe had ^i' the Supervisor. 
He was a dafb dog. — 0, an he could hae hauden aff the 
smugglers a bit 1 but he was aye venturesome. — ^And so ye see, 
sir, there was a king's sloop down in Wigton Bay, and Frank 
Kennedy, he behoved to have her up to chase Dirk Hatteraick's 
lugger — ^ye'll mind Dirk Hatteraick, Deacon? I dare say ye 
may have dealt wi' him — (the Deacon gave a sort of acquiescent 
nod and humph). He was a daring chield, and he fought 
his ship till she blew up like peelings of ingans ; and Frank 
Kennedy he had been the first man to board, and he was flung 
like a quarter of a mile off, and fell into the water below the 
rock at Warroch Point, that they ca' the Ganger's Loup to this 
day." 

'' And Mr. Bertram's child," said the stranger, *' what is all 
thistohunr 

" On, sir, the bairn aye held an unca wark wi' the Supervisor ; 
and it was generally thought he went on board the vessel alang 
wi' him, as bairns axe aye forward to be in mischief." 

" No, no," said the Deacon, " ye're dean out there, LucMe — 
for the young Laird waa stown away by a randy gipsy woman 
they ca'd Meg Merrilies, — I mind her looks weel, — in revenge 
for Ellangowan having gar'd her be drumm'd through Kipple- 
tringan for stealing a silver spoon." 

" If ye'U forgie me. Deacon," said' the precentor, " ye're e'en 
as far wrang as the gudewife." 

" And what is your edition of the story, sir 1" said the stranger, 
turning to him with interest. 

** That's maybe no sae canny to tell," said the precentor, with 
solemnity. 



88 WAVERLEY KOVELS. 

Upon being urged, however, to speak out, he preluded with 
two or three large puffs of tobacco-smoke, and out of the cloudy 
sanctuary which these whifi^ formed around him, delivered the 
following legend, having cleared his voice with one or two hems, 
and imitating, as near as he could, the eloquence which weekly 
thundered over his head from the pulpit. 

" What we are now to deliver, my brethren, — ^hem — ^hem, — 
I mean, my good friends, — ^was not done in a comer, and may 
serve as an answer to witch-advocates, atheists, and misbelievers 
of all kinds. Ye must know that the worshipful Laird of 
EUangowan was not so preceese as he might have been in 
clearing his land of witches (concerning whom it is said ' Thou 
shalt not suffer a witch to live'), nor of those who had familiar 
spirits, and consulted with divination, and sorcery, and lots, 
which is the fashion with the Egyptians, as they ca' themsells, 
and other unhappy bodies, ia this our country. And the Laird 
wafi three years married without haviQg a family — ^and he was 
sae lefb to himsell, that it was thought he held ower muckle 
troking and communing wi' that Meg Merrilies, wha was the 
maist notorious witch in a' Gkdloway and Dumfries-shire baith." 

" Aweel, I wot there's something in that," said Mrs. Mao- 
Candlish ; " Fve kenn'd him order her twa glasses o' brandy in 
this very house." 

" Aweel, gudewife, then the less I lee. — Sae the lady was wi' 
bairn at last, and in the night when she should have been 
delivered, there comes to the door of the ha' house — ^the Place 
of EUangowan as they ca'd — ^an ancient man, strangely habited, 
and asked for quarters. His head, and his legs, and his arms 
were bare, although it was winter time o' the year, and he had 
a grey beard three quarters lang. Weel, he was admitted ; and 
when the lady was delivered, he craved to know the veiy moment 
of the hour of the birth, and he went out and consulted the 
stars. And when he came back he teU'd the Laird, that the 
Evil One would have power over the knave-baim that was that 
night bom, and he charged him that the babe should be bred 
up in the ways of piety, and that he should hae a godly minister 
at his elbow, to pray wi' the haim and for him. And the aged 
man vanished away, and no man of this country ever saw mair 
o' him." 

" Now, that will not pass," said the postilion, who, at a 
respectful distance, was listening to the conversation, " begging 



GUY MANNERING. 89 

Mr. Skreigh's and the company's pardon, — there waa no sao 
mony hairs on the Warlock's face as there's on Letter-Grae's* 
ain at this moment ; and he had as gude a pair o' boots as a 
man need streik on his legs, and gloves too; — and I should 
understand boots by this time, I think." 

" Whisht, Jock," said the landlady. 

"Ay? and what do ye ken o' the matter, friend Jabos?" said 
the precentor, contemptuously. 

"No muckle, to be sure, Mr. Skreigh — only that I lived 
within a penny-stane cast o' the head o' the avenue at EUan- 
gowan, when a man cam jingling to our door that night the 
young Laird was bom, and my mother sent me, that was a 
hafflin callant, to show the stranger the gate to the Place, 
which, if he had been sic a warlock, he might hae kenn'd 
himsell, ane wad think — and he was a young, weel-faured, 
weel-dressed lad, like an Englishman. And I tell ye he had as 
gude a hat, and boots, and gloves, as ony gentleman need to 
have. To be sure he did gie an awsome glance up at the auld 
castle — ^and there was some spae-work gaed on — I aye heard 
that ; but as for his vanishing, I held the stirrup mysell when 
he ^led away, and he gied me a round half-crown — ^he was 
riding on a haick they ca'd Souple Sam — ^it belanged to the 
Greorge at Dumfries — ^it was a blood-bay beast, very Ol o' the 
spavin — I hae seen the beast baith before and since." 

" Aweel, aweel, Jock," answered Mr. Skreigh, with a tone of 
mild solemnity, " our accounts differ in no material particulars ; 
but I had no knowledge that ye had seen the man. — So ye see, 
my friends, that this soothsayer having prognosticated evil to 
the boy, his fiither engaged a godly minister to be with him 
mom and night." 

" Ay, that was him they ca'd Dominie Sampson," said the 
postilion. 

" He's but a dumb dog that," observed the Deacon ; " I have 
heard that he never could preach five words of a sermon end- 
lang, for as lang su9 he has been licensed." 

" Weel, but," said the precentor, waving his hand, as if eager 
to retrieve the command of the discourse, " he waited on the 
yo\mg Laird by night and day. Now it chanced, when the 
bairn was near five years auld, that the Laird had a sight of his 

* The precentor Is called by Allan Ramsay, — • 
" The Lett«r-Oae of baly ryhme.'* 



90 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

errors, and determined to put these Egyptians aff his ground , 
and he caused them to remove ; and that Frank Kennedy, that 
was a rough swearing fellow, he was sent to turn them off. And 
he cursed and damned at them, and they swure at h\m • and 
that M^ Merrilies, that was the maist powerfii' with the Enemy 
of Mankind, she as gude as said she would have him, body and 
soul, before three days were ower his head. And I have it 
from a sure hand, and that^s ane wha saw it, and that's John 
Wilson that was the Laird's groom, that Meg appeared to the 
Laird as he was riding hame from Singleside, over Gibbie's- 
know, and threatened him wi' what she wad do to his family ; 
but whether it was Meg, or something waur in her likeness, for 
it seemed bigger than ony mortal creature, John could not say." 

" Aweel," said the postilion, " it might be sae — I canna say 
against it, for I was not in the country at the time ; but John 
Wilson was a blustering kind of chield, without the heart of a 
sprug." 

" And what was the end of all this !" said the stranger, with 
some impatience. 

" Ou, the event and upshot of it was, sir," said the precentor, 
" that while they were aU looking on, beholding a king's ship 
chase a smuggler, this Kermedy suddenly brake away frae them, 
without ony reason that could be descried — ^ropes nor tows wad 
not hae held him — ^and made for the wood of Warroch as fast 
as his beast could carry him : and by the way he met the young 
Laird and his Governor, and he snatched up the balm, and 
swure, if he was bewitched, the bairn should have the same 
luck as him ; and the minister followed as fast as he could, and 
almaist as fast as them, for he was wonderfuUy swift of foot- 
and he saw Meg the witch, or her master in her similitude, rise 
suddenly out of the ground, and claught the baim suddenly out 
of the ganger's arms — and then he rampauged and drew his 
sword — ^for ye ken a fie man and a cusser fearsna the deil." 

" I believe that's very true," said the postilion. 

" So, sir, she grippit him, and clodded him like a stane from 
the sling ower the craigs of Warroch-head, where he was found 
that evening — ^but what became of the babe, frankly I cannot 
say. But he that was minister here then, that's now in a 
better place, had an opinion that the baim was only conveyed 
to Fairy-land for a season." 

The stranger had smiled slightly at some parts of this recital. 



GUY MANNEKING. 91 

but ere he could answer, the clatter of a horse's hoo& was heard, 
and a smart servant, handsomely dressed, with a cockade in his 
hat, bustled into the kitchen, with " Make a little room, good 
people;" when, observing the stranger, he descended at once 
into the modest and civil domestic, his hat sunk down by his 
side, and he put a letter into his master's hands. '* The family 
at Ellangowan, sir, are in great distress, and unable to receive 
any visits." 

" I know it," replied his master. — " And now, madam, if you 
will have the goodness to allow me to occupy the parlour you 
mentioned, as you are disappointed of your guests" 

''Certainly, sir," said Mrs. Mac-Candlish, and hastened to 
light the way with all the imperative bustle which an active 
landlady loves to display on such occasions. 

" Young man," said the Deacon to the servant, filling a glass, 
" yell no be the waur o' this, after your ride." 

" Not a feather, sir, — ^thank ye — ^your very good health, sir." 

" And wha may your master be, friend 1" 

''What, the gentleman that was here? — that's the famous 
Colonel Mannering, sir, firom the East Indies." 

" What, him we read of in the newspapers ?" 

"Ay, ay, just the same. It was he relieved Cuddiebuni, 
and defended Chingalore, and defeated the great Mahratta 
Chief, Ram Jolli Bundleman — I was with him in most of his 
campaigns." 

" Lord safe us," said the landlady, " I must go see what he 
would have for supper — ^that I should set him down here !" 

" 0, he likes that all the better, mother ; — ^you never saw a 
plainer creature in your life than our old Colonel ; and yet he 
has a spice of the devil in him too." 

The rest of the evening's conversation below stairs tending 
little to edification, we shall, with the reader's leave, step up to 
the parlour. 



93 WAVEKLEY . NOVELS. 



CHAPTER TWELFTH. 

Rei)iitation ? that's man's idol 



Set up against God, the Maker of all laws, 
Who hatibi commanded us we should not kill. 
And yet we say we must, for Reputation ! 
What honest man can either fear his own, 
Or else will hurt another's reputation ? 
Fear to do base unworthy things is Talour ; 
If they be done to us, to suffer them 

Is valour too. 

Ben Jonson. 

The Colonel was walking pensively up and down the parlour, 
when the officious landlady re-entered to take his commands. 
Having given them in the manner he thought would be most 
acceptable " for the good of the house," he begged to detain her 
a moment. 

" I think," he said, " madam, if I understood the good people 
right, Mr. Bertram lost his son in his fifth year?" 

"0 ay, sir, there's nae doubt o* that, though there are mony 
idle clashes about the way and manner : for it's an auld story 
now, and everybody tells it, as we were doing, their ain way by 
the ingleside. But lost the bairn was in his fifth year, as your 
honour says. Colonel : and the news being rashly tell'd to the 
leddy, then great with child, cost her her life that samyn night 
— and the Laird never throve after that day, but was just care- 
less of everything — though, when his daughter Miss Lucy grew 
up, she tried to keep order within doors — ^but what could she 
do, poor thing 1 — so now they're out of house and hauld." 

"Can you recollect, madam, about what time of the year 
the child was lost?" The landlady, after a pause, and some 
recollection, answered, "she was positive it was about this 
season;" and added some local recollections that fixed the 
date in her memory, as occurring about the beginning of 
November, 17 — . 

The stranger took two or three turns round the room in 
silence, but signed to Mrs. Mac-Candlish not to leave it. 

"Did I rightly apprehend," he said, **that the estate of 
Ellangowan is in the market ?" 

" Li the market ? — ^it will be sell'd the mom to the highest 



oTTY MAimiiRma 93 

bidder — ^that's no the mom, Lord help me ! which is the Sab- 
bath, but on Monday, the first free day ; and the furniture and 
stocking is to be roupit at the same time on the ground. It's 
the opinion of the haill country, that the sale has been shame- 
fully forced on at this time, when there's sae little money stirring 
in Scotland wi' this weaiy American war, that somebody may 
get the land a bargain — ^Deil be in them, that I should say sae !" 
— ^the good lady's wrath rising at the supposed injustice. 

" And where will the sale take place V* 

" On the premises, as the advertisement says — that's at the 
house of EUangowan, your honour, as I understand it." 

" And who exhibits the title-deeds, rent-roll, and plan 1" 

" A very decent man, sir ; the Sheriff-substitute of the county, 
who has authority from the Court of Session. He's in the town 
just now, if your honour would like to see him ; and he can 
tell you mair about the loss of the bairn than onybody, for the 
Sheriff-depute (that's his principal, like) took much pains to 
come at the truth o' that matter, as I have heard." 

" And this gentleman's name is " 

"Mac-Morlan, sir, — he's a man o' character, and weel 
spoken o'." 

"Send my compliments — Colonel Mannering*s compliments 
to him, and I would be glad he would do me the pleasure of 
supping with me, and bring these papers with him— and I beg, 
good madam, you will say nothing of this to any one else." 

" Me, sir ? ne'er a word shaU I say — ^I wish your honour (a 
curtsey), or ony honoTirable gentleman that's fought for his 
country (another curtsey), had the land, since the auld family 
maun quit (a sigh), rather than that wily scoundrel, Glossin, 
that's risen on the ruin of the best friend he ever had — and 
now I think on't, 111 slip on my hood and pattens, and gang 
to Mr. Mac-Morlan mysell — he's at hame e'en now — ^its hardly 
a step " 

" Do so, my good landlady, and many thanks — ^and bid my 
servant step here with my portfolio in the meantime." 

In a minute or two. Colonel Mannering was quietly seated 
with his writing materiab before him. We have the privilege 
of looking over his shoulder as he writes, and we willingly 
communicate its substance to our readers. The letter was 
addressed to Arthur Mervyn, Esq. of Mervyn-Hall, Llanbndth- 
waite, Westmoreland. It contained some account of the writers 



94 WAVEKLEY NOVELS. 

preyious journey since pai-ting with him, and then proceeded aa 
follows : — 

" And now, why will you still upbraid me with my melancholy, 
Mervyn 1 — ^Do you think, after the lapse of twenty-five years, 
battles, wounds, imprisonment, misfortunes of every description, 
I can be still the same lively, unbroken Guy Mannering, who 
climbed Skiddaw with you, or shot grouse upon Orossfell? 
That you, who have remained in the bosom of domestic happi- 
ness, experience little change, that your step is as light, and 
your £ELncy as full of sunshuie, is a blessed effect of health and 
temperament, co-operating with content, and a smooth current 
down the course of life. But rwy career has been one of diffi- 
culties, and doubts, and errors. From my infancy I have been 
the sport of accident, and though the wind has often borne me 
into harbour, it has seldom been into that which the pilot 
destined. Let me recall to you — ^but the task must be brief — 
the odd and wayward fates of my youth, and the misfortunes of 
my manhood. 

" The former, you will say, had nothing very appalling. All 
waa not for the best \ but all was tolerable. My father, the 
eldest son of an ancient but reduced family, left me with little, 
save the name of the head of the house, to the protection of his 
more fortunate brothers. They were so fond of me that they 
almost quarrelled about me. My uncle, the bishop, would have 
had me in orders, and offered me a living — my uncle, the 
merchant, would have put me into a counting-house, and pro- 
posed to give me a share in the thriviog concern of Mannering 
and Marshall, in Lombard Street. So, between these two 
stools, or rather these two soft, easy, well-stuffed chairs of 
divinity and commerce, my unfortunate person slipped down, 
and pitched upon a dragoon saddle. Again, the bishop wished 
me to marry the niece and heiress of the Dean of Lincoln ; and 
my unde, the alderman, proposed to me the only daughter of 
old Sloethom, the great wine-merchant, rich enough to play at 
span-counter with moidores, and make thread-papers of bank 
notes — and somehow I slipped my neck out of both nooses, and 
married — ^poor — ^poor Sophia Wellwood. 

" You will say, my military career in Lidia, when I followed 
my regiment there, should have given me some satisfaction; 
and so it assuredly has. You will remind me also, that if I 
disappointed the hopes of my guanlianfi I did not incur their 



GUY MANNERING. 95 

displeasure ; that the bishop, at his death, bequeathed me hia 
blessing, his manuscript sermons, and a curious portfolio, con- 
taining the heads of eminent divines of the church of England ; 
and that my uncle, Sir Paul Mannering, left me sole heir and 
executor to his large fortune. Yet this availeth me nothing : 
I told you I had that upon my mind which I should carry to 
my grave with me — a perpetual aloes in the draught of exist- 
ence. I will tell you the cause more in detail than I had the 
heart to do while «nder your hospitable roof. You will often 
hear it mentioned, and perhaps with different and unfounded 
circumstances. I will therefore speak it out; and then let 
the event itself, and the sentiments of melancholy with which 
it. has impressed me, never again be subject of discussion 
between us. 

" Sophia, as you well know, followed me to India. She was 
as innocent as gay ; but, unfortunately for us both, as gay as 
innocent. My own manners were partly formed by studies I 
had forsaken, and habits of seclusion, not quite consistent with 
my situation as commandant of a regiment in a country where 
aniversal hospitality is offered and expected by every settler 
claiming the rank of a gentleman. In a moment of peculiar 
pressure (you know how hard we were sometimes run to obtain 
white faces to countenance our line-of-battle), a young* man, 
named Brown, joined our regiment sa a volunteer — ^and* finding 
the military duty more to his fancy than commerce, in which 
he had been engaged, remained with us as a cadet. Let me do 
my unhappy victim justice — he behaved with such gallantry on 
eveiy occasion that offered, that the first vacant commission 
was considered as his due. I was absent for some weeks upon 
a distant expedition; when I returned, I found this young 
fellow established quite as the friend of the house, and habitual 
attendant of my wife and daughter. It was an arrangement 
which displeased me in many particulars, though no objection 
could be made to his manners or character. Yet I might have 
been reconciled to his familiarity in my family, but for the 
suggestions of another. If you read over — ^what I never dare 
open — the play of Othello, you will have some idea of what 
followed — ^I mean, of my motives : my actions, thank God 1 
were less reprehensible. There was another cadet ambitious of 
the vacant situation. He called my attention to what he led 
me to term coquetry between my wife and this young man. 



96 WAVEBLEY NOVELS. 

Sophia was virtuous, but proud of her virtue ; and, irritated by 
my jealousy, she was so imprudent as i;o press and encourage 
an intimacy which she saw I disapproved and regarded with 
suspicion. Between Brown and me there existed a sort of 
internal dislike. He made an effort or two to overcome my 
prejudice ; but, prepossessed as I was, I placed them to a wi'ong 
motive. Feeling himself repulsed, and with scorn, he desisted ; 
and as he was without family and friends, he was naturally more 
watchful of the deportment of one who had both. 

" It is odd with what torture I write this letter. I feel 
inclined, nevertheless, to protract the operation, just as if my 
doing so could put off the catastrophe which has so long embit- 
tered my life. But ^it must be told, and it shall be told 

briefly. 

"My wife, though no longer young, was still eminently 
handsome, and-let me say thus fer in my own justification- 
she was fond of being thought so — I am repeating what I said 
before. — In a word, of her virtue I never entertained a doubt ; 
but, pushed by the artful suggestions of Archer, I thought she 
cared little for my peace of mind, and that the young fellow, 
Brown, paid his attentions in my despite, and in defiance of 
me. He perhaps considered me, on his part, as an oppressive 
aristocratic man, who made my rank in society, and in the 
army, the means' of galling thoL whom circumstances placed 
beneath me. And if he discovered my silly jealousy, he pro- 
bably considered the fretting me in that sore point of my 
character, as one means of avenging the petty indignities to 
which I had it in my power to subject him. Yet an acute 
friend of mine gave a more harmless, or at least a less offensive, 
construction to his attentions, which he conceived to be meant 
for my daughter Julia, though immediately addressed to pro- 
pitiate the influence of her mother. This could have been no 
very flattering or pleasing enterprise on the part of an obscure 
and nameless young man ; but I should not have been ofl'ended 
at this folly, as I was at the higher degree of presimiption I 
suspected. Offended, however, I was, and in a mortal degree. 

" A very slight spark will kindle a flame where everything 
lies open to catch it. I have absolutely forgot the proximate 
cause of quarrel, but it was some trifle which occurred at the 
card-table, which occasioned high words and a challenge. We 
met in the morning beyond the walls and esplanade of the 



GUY MANNERING. 97 

fortress which I then commanded, on the frontiers of the settle- 
ment. This was arranged for Brown's safety, had he escaped. 
I almost wish he had, though at my own expense ; but he fell 
by the first fire. We strove to assist him ; but some of these 
Looties, a species of native banditti who were always on the 
watch for prey, poured in upon us. Archer and I gained our 
horses with difficulty, and cut our way through them after a 
hard conflict, in the course of which he received some desperate 
wounds. To complete the misfortimes of this miserable day, 
my wife, who suspected the design with which I left the fortress, 
had ordered her palanquin to follow me, and was alarmed and 
almost made prisoner by another troop of these plunderers. 
She was quickly released by a party of our cavalry; but I 
cannot disguise from myself, that the incidents of this fatal 
morning gave a severe shock to health already delicate. The 
confession of Archer, who thought himself dying, that he had 
invented some circumstances, and, for his purposes, put the 
worst construction upon others, and the full explanation and 
exchange of forgiveness with me which this produced, could not 
check the progress of her disorder. She died within about 
eight months after this incident, bequeathing me only the girl, 
of whom Mrs. Mervyn is so good as to undertake the temporary 
charge. Julia was also extremely ill ; so much so, that I was 
induced to throw up my command and return to Europe, 
where her native air, time, and the novelty of the scenes around 
her, have contributed to dissipate her dejection, and restore her 
health. 

" Now that you know my story, you wiU no longer ask me 
the reason of my melancholy, but permit me to brood upon it 
as I may. There is, surely, in the above narrative, enough to 
embitter, though not to poison, the chalice, which the fortime 
and fame you so often mention had prepared to regale my years 
of retirement. 

" I could add circumstances which our old tutor would have 
quoted as instances of day fatality^ — ^you would laugh were I 
to mention such particulars, especially as you know I put no 
faith in them. Yet, since I have come to the very house from 
which I now write, I have learned a singular coincidence, 
which, if I find it truly established by tolerable evidence, will 
serve us hereafter for subject of curious discussion. But I wiD 
spare you at present, as I expect a pei'son to speak about a 

VOL. n. F 



98 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

purchase of property now open in this part of the country. It 
is a place to which I have a foolish partiality, and I hope my 
purchasmg may be convenient to those who are parting with it, 
as there is a plan for buying it under the value. My respectful 
compliments to Mrs. Mervyn, and I will trust you, though you 
boast to be so lively a young gentleman, to kiss Julia for me. — 
Adieu, dear Mervyn. — Thine ever, 

"Guy Mannering." 

Mr. Mac-Morlan now entered the room. The well-known 
character of Colonel Mannering at once disposed this gentleman, 
who was a man of intelligence and probity, to be open and con- 
fidential. He explained the advantages and disadvantages of 
the property. " It was settled," he said, " the greater part of 
it at least, upon heirs-male, and the purchaser would have the 
privilege of retaining in his hands a large proportion of the price, 
in case of the re-appearance, within a certain limited term, of 
the child who had disappeared." 

"To what purpose, then, force forward a sale?" said Man- 
nering. 

Mac-Morlan smiled. "Ostensibly," he answered, "to sub- 
stitute the interest of money, instead of the ill-paid and precarious 
rents of an imimproved estate ; but chiefly, it was believed, to 
suit the wishes and views of a certain intended purchaser, who 
had become a principal creditor, and forced himself into the 
management of the affairs by means best known to himself, and 
who, it was thought, would find it very convenient to purchase 
the estate without paying down the price." 

Mannering consulted with Mr. Mac-Morlan upon the steps 
for thwarting this unprincipled attempt. They then conversed 
long on the singular disappearance of Harry Bertram upon his 
fifth birth-day, verifying thus the random prediction of Man- 
nering, of which, however, it will readily be supposed he made 
no boast. Mr. Mac-Morlan was not himself in office when that 
incident took place ; but he was well acquainted with all the 
circumstances, and promised that our hero should have them 
detailed by the sheriff-depute himself, if, as he proposed, he 
should become a settler in that part of Scotland. With this 
assurance they parted, well satisfied with each other, and with 
the evening's conference. 

On the Sunday following, Colonel Mannering attended the 



GUY MANNERING. 99 

pariflh church -with great decorum. None of the Ellangowan 
family were present ; and it was imderstood that the old Laird 
was rather worse than better. Jock Jabos, once more dispatched 
for him, returned once more without his errand ; but, on the 
following day, Mias Bertram hoped he might be removed. 



CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. 

Thffj told me^ by the sentence of the law, 
They had commission to seize all thy fortune. — 
Here stood a rufBan with a horrid face, 
Lording it o'er a pile of massy plate, 
Tumbled into a heap for public sale ; — 
There was another, making villainous jests 
At thy undoing ; he had ta'en possession 
Of all thy ancient most domestic ornaments. 

Otwat. 

Eakly next morning, Mannering mounted his horse, and 
accompanied by his servant, took the road to EUangowan. He 
had no need to inquire the way. A sale in the country is a 
place of public resort and amusement, and people of various 
descriptions streamed to it from all quarters: 

After a pleasant ride of about an hour, the old towers of the 
ruin presented themselves in the landscape. The thoughts, 
with what different feelings he had lost sight of them so many 
years before, thronged upon the mind of the traveller. The 
landscape was the same ; but how changed the feelings, hopes, 
and views, of the spectator ! Then, life and love were new, 
and all the prospect was gilded by their rays. And now, disap- 
pointed in affection, sated with fame, and what the world calls 
success, his mind goaded by bitter and repentant recollection, 
his best hope was to find a retirement in which he might nurse 
the melancholy that was to accompany him to his grave. " Yet 
why should an individual mourn over the instability of his 
hopes, and the vanity of his prospects? The ancient chiefs, 
who erected these enormous and massive towers to be the fortress 
of their race, and the seat of their power, — could they have 
dreamed the day was to come, when the last of their descendr 
ants should be expelled, a ruined wandeorar, from his possessions ! 



100 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

But Nature's bounties are unaltered The sun will shine as 
fair on these ruins, whether the property of a stranger, or of a 
sordid and obscure trickster of the abused law, as when the 
banners of the founder first waved upon their battlements." 

These reflections brought Mannering to the door of the house, 
which was that day open to all. He entered among others, who 
traversed the apartments — some to select articles for purchase, 
others to gratify their curiosity. There is something melancholy 
in such a scene, even under the most favourable circumstances. 
The confused state of the furniture, displaced for the convenience 
of being easily viewed and carried off by the purchasers, is dis- 
agreeable to the eye. Those articles which, properly and de- 
cently arranged, look creditable and handsome, have then a 
paltry and wretched appearance ; and the apartments, stripped 
of all that render them commodious and comfortable, have an 
aspect of ruin and dilapidation. It is disgusting, also, to see 
the scenes of domestic society and seclusion thrown open to 
the gaze of the curious and the vulgar; to hear their coarse 
speculations and brutal jests upon the fashions and furniture to 
which they are unaccustomed, — a frolicsome humour, much 
cherished by the whisky which in Scotland is always put in 
circulation on such occasions. All these are ordinary effects of 
such a scene as Ellangowan now presented; but the moral 
feeling, that, in this case, they indicated the total ruin of an 
ancient and honourable family, gave them treble weight and 
poignancy. 

It was some time before Colonel Mannering could find any 
one disposed to answer his reiterated questions concerning 
Ellangowan himself. At length, an old maid-servant, who 
held her apron to her eyes as she spoke, told him, " the Laird 
was something better, and they hoped he would be able to leave 
the house that day. Miss Lucy expected the chaise every 
moment, and, as the day was fine for the time o' year, they had 
carried him in his easy chair up to the green before the auld 
castle, to be out of the way of this unco spectacle." Thither 
Colonel Mannering went in quest of him, and soon came in 
sight of the little group, which consisted of four persons. The 
ascent was steep, so that he had time to reconnoitre them as 
he advanced, and to consider in what mode he should make his 
<iddress. 

Mr. Bertram, paralytic, and almost incapable of moving, 



GUY MANNEKING. 101 

occupied his easy chair, attired in his night-cap, and a loose 
camlet coat, his feet wrapped in blankets. Behind him, with 
his hands crossed on the cane upon which he rested, stood 
Dominie Sampson, whom Mannermg recognised at once. ' Time 
had made no change upon him, unless that his black coat 
seemed more brown, and his gaunt cheeks more lank, than 
when Mannering last saw him. On one side of the old man 
was a sylph-like form — a young woman of about seventeen, 
whom the Colonel accounted to be his daughter. She was 
looking, from time to time, anxiously towards the avenue, as if 
expecting a post-chaise ; and between whiles busied herself in 
adjusting the blankets, so as to protect her father from the cold, 
and in answering inquiries, which he seemed to make with a 
captious and querulous manner. She did not trust herself to 
look towards the Place, although the hum of the assembled 
crowd must have drawn her attention in that direction. The 
fourth person of the group was a handsome and genteel young 
man, who seemed to share Miss Bertram's anxiety, and her 
solicitude to soothe and accommodate her parent. 

This young man was the first who observed Colonel Manner- 
ing, and immediately stepped forward to meet him, as if politely 
to prevent his drawing nearer to the distressed group. Manner- 
ing instantly paused, and explained. " He was," he said, " a 
stranger, to whom Mr. Bertram had formerly shown kindness 
and hospitality ; he would not have intruded himself upon him 
at a period of distress, did it not seem to be in some degree a 
moment also of desertion; he wished merely to offer such 
services as might be in his power to Mr. Bertram and the 
young lady." 

He then paused at a little distance from the chair. His old 
acquaintance gazed at him with lack-lustre eye, that intimated 
no tokens of recognition — the Dominie seemed too deeply simk 
in distress even to observe his presence. The young man spoke 
aside with Miss Bertram, who advanced timidly, and thanked 
Colonel Mannering for his goodness ; " but," she said, the tears 
gushing fast into her eyes, " her father, she feared, was not so 
much himself as to be able to remember him." 

She then retreated towards the chair, accompanied by the 
Colonel. — " Father," she said, " this is Mr. Mannering, an old 
friend, come to inquire after you." 

" He's very heartily welcome," said the old man, raising him- 



iO:i WA.VERLEY KOVBLS. 

self in his chair, and attempting a gesture of courtesy, whfle a 
gleam of hospitable satisfaction seemed to pass over his faded 
features. — " But, Lucy, my dear, let us go down to the house ; 
you should not keep the gentleman here in the cold, — ^Dominie, 
take the key of the wine cooler. Mr. a — a — ^the gentleman 
will surely take something after his ride." 

Mannering was unspeakably affected by the contrast which 
his recollection made between this reception and that with which 
he had been greeted by the same individual when they last met. 
He could not restrain his tears, and his evident emotion at 
once attained him the confidence of the friendless young lady. 

"Alas!" she said, "this is distressing even to a stranger; 
but it may be better for my poor father to be in this way, than 
if he knew and could feel all." 

A servant in livery now came up the path, and spoke in an 
undertone to the young gentleman : — " Mr. Charles, my lady's 
wanting you yonder sadly, to bid for her for the black ebony 
cabinet ; and Lady Jean Devorgoil is wi' her an' a' — ^ye maun 
come away directly." 

" Tell them you could not find me, Tom ; — or stay, — say 1 
am looking at the horses." 

" No, no, no," said Lucy Bertram, earnestly ; — " if you would 
not add to the misery of this miserable moment, go to the 
company directly. This gentleman, I am sure, will see us to 
the carriage." 

"Unquestionably, madam," said Mannering; "your young 
friend may rely on my attention." 

"Farewell, then," said young Hazlewood, and whispered a 
word in her ear — then ran down the steep hastily, as if not 
trusting his resolution at a slower pace. 

"Where's Charles Hazlewood running?" said the invalid, 
who apparently was accustomed to his presence and attentions ; 
" Where's Charles Hazlewood running i— what takes him away 
now?" 

" He'll return in a little while," said Lucy, gently. 

The sound of voices was now heard fi'om the ruins. (The 
reader may remember there was a communication between the 
castle and the beach, up which the speakers had ascended). 

" Yes, there's plenty of shells and sea-ware for manure, as 
you observe — ^and if one inclined to build a new house, which 



GUY MANNEBIN6. 103 

might indeed be necessary, there's a great deal of good hewn 
stone about this old dungeon for the devil here" — 

" Good God !" said Miss Bertram hastily to Sampson, " 'tis 
that wretch Glossin's voice ! — if my father sees him, it will kill 
him outright !" 

Sampson wheeled perpendicularly round, and moved with long 
dtrides to confront the attorney, as he issued from beneath the 
portal arch of the ruin. " Avoid ye !" he said — " Avoid ye I 
wouldst thou kill and take possession?" 

*^ Gome, come, Master Dominie Sampson," answered Glossin, 
insolently, " if ye cannot preach in the pulpit, we'll have no 
preaching here. We go by the law, my good friend ; we leave 
the gospel to yoa" 

The very mention of this man's name had been of late a 
subject of the most violent irritation to the unfortunate patient. 
The sound of his voice now produced an instantaneous effect 
Mr. Bertram started up without assistance, and turned round 
towards him : the ghastliness of his features forming a strange 
contrast with the violence of his exclamations. — " Out of my 
sight, ye viper ! ye frozen viper, that I warmed till ye stung 
me ! — art thou not afraid that the walls of my father's dwelling 
should fall and crush thee limb and bone ?---are ye not afraid 
the very lintels of the door of EUangowan castle should break 
open and swallow you up? — Were ye not friendless, — Chouse- 
less, — ^penniless, — ^when I took ye by the hand — and are ye not 
expelling m&— me, and that ionocent girl— friendless, houseless, 
and pemiiless, from the house that has sheltered us and ours for 
a thousand years V* 

Had Glossiu been alone, he would probably have slunk off; 
but the consciousness that a stranger was present, besides the 
person who came with him (a sort of land-siu^eyor), determined 
him to resort to impudence. The task, however, was almost too 
hard, even for his eflBrontery. — " Sir— -Sir — ^Mr. Bertram — Sir, 
you should not blame me but your own imprudence, sir" — 

The indignation of Mannering was mountmg very high. 
" Sir," he said to Glossin, " without entering into the merits of 
this controversy, I must inform you, that you have chosen a 
very improper place, time, and presence for it. And you will 
oblige me by withdrawing without more words." 

Glossin, being a tall, strong, muscular man, was not unwil- 
ling rather to turn upon a stranger whom he hoped to bully, 



/ 



104 WAVBRLEY NOVELS. 

than maintain his wretched cause against his injured patron : — 
" I do not know who you are, sir," he said, " and I shall permit 
no man to use such d — d freedont with me." 

Mannering was naturally hot-tempered — his eyes flashed a 
dark light — he compressed his nether lip so closely that the 
blood spnmg, and approaching Glossin — " Look you, sir," he 
said, " that you do not know me, is of little consequence. 1 
know you ; and, if you do not instantly descend that bank, with- 
out uttering a single syllable, by the Heaven that is above us, 
you shall make but one step from the top to the bottom I" 

The commanding tone of rightful anger silenced at once the 
ferocity of the bully. He hesitated, turned on his heel, and, 
muttering something between his teeth about unwillingness to 
alarm the lady, relieved them of his hateful company. 

Mrs. Mac-Candlish's postilion, who had come up in time to 
hear what passed, said aloud, ''If he had stuck by the way, I 
would have lent him a heezie, the dirty scoundrel, as willingly 
as ever I pitched a boddle." 

He then stepped forward to announce that his horses were in 
readiness for the invalid and his daughter. 

But they were no longer necessary. The debilitated frame 
of Mr. Bertram was exhausted by this last effort of indignant 
anger, and when he sunk again upon his chair, he expired 
ahnost without a struggle or groan. So little alteration did the 
extinction of the vital spark make upon his external appearance, 
that the screams of his daughter, when she saw his eye fix and 
felt his pulse stop, first annoimced his death to the spectators. 



CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. 

The bell strikes one. — We take no note of time 
But from its loss. To give it then a tongue 
Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke, 

I feel the solemn sound. 

YouNQ. 

Thb moral which the poet has rather quaintly deduced from 
the necessary mode of measuring time, may be well applied to 
our feelings respecting that portion of it which constitutes 
human life. We observe the aged, the infirm, and those 



GUT MANNEMNG. 105 

engaged in occupafcions of immediate hazard, trembling as it 
were upon the very brink of non-existence, but we derive no 
lesson from the precariousness of their tenure until it has 
altogether failed. Then, for a moment at least. 

Our hopes and fears 
Start up alarm'd, and o'er life's narrow verge 
Look down — On what ? — a fathomless abyss, 
A dark eternity, — how surely ours ! 

The crowd of assembled gazers and idlers at Ellangowan had 
followed the views of amusement, or what they call business, 
which brought them there, with little regard to the feelings of 
those who were suffering upon that occasion. Few, indeed, 
knew anything of the family. The father, betwixt seclusion, 
misfortime, and imbecility, had drifted, as it were, for many 
years, out of the notice of his contemporaries — the daughter 
had never been known to them. But when the general murmur 
announced that the unfortunate Mr. Bertram had broken his 
heart in the effort to leave the mansion of his forefathers, there 
poured forth a torrent of sympathy, like the waters from the 
rock when stricken by the wand of the prophet. The ancient 
descent and unblemished integrity of the family were respect- 
fully remembered; — ^above all, the sacred veneration due to 
misfortune, which in Scotland seldom demands its tribute in 
vain, then claimed and received it. 

Mr. Mac-Morlan hastily announced that he would suspend all 
farther proceedings in the sale of the estate and other property, 
and relinquish the possession of the premises to the young lady, 
until she could consult with her friends, and provide for the 
burial of her father. 

Glossin had cowered for a few minutes under the general ex- 
pression of sympathy, till, hardened by observing that no appear- 
ance of popular indignation was directed his way, he had the 
audacity to require that the sale should proceed. 

" I will take it upon my own authority to adjourn it," said 
the sheriff-substitute, "and will be responsible for the con- 
sequences. I will also give due notice when it is again to go 
forward. It is for the benefit of all concerned that the lands 
should bring the highest price the state of the market will 
admit, and this is surely no time to expect it — I will take the 
responsibility upon myself. " 

(rlosain left the room, and the house too, with secrecy and 



106 WAVBRLEY NOVELS. 

dispatch ; and it waA probably well for him that he did so, since 
our friend Jock Jabos was aJxeady haranguing a numerous tribe 
of bare-legged boys on the propriety of pelting him off the estate. 

Some of the rooms were hastily put in order for the reception 
of the young lady, and of her father's dead body. Maamering 
now found his farther interference would be unnecessary, and 
might be misconstrued. He observed, too, that several families 
connected with that of EUangowan, and who indeed derived 
their principal claim of gentility from the alliance, were now 
disposed to pay to their trees of genealogy a tribute, which the 
adversity of their supposed relatives had been inadequate to 
call forth ; and that the honour of superintending the funeral 
rites of the dead (jodfrey Bertram (as in the memorable case 
of Homer's birth-place) was likely to be debated by seven 
gentleman of rank and fortune, none of whom had offered him 
an asylum while living. He therefore resolved, as his presence 
was altogether useless, to make a short tour of a fortnight, at 
the end of which period the adjourned sale of the estate of 
EUangowan was to proceed. 

But before he departed, he solicited an interview with the 
Dominie. The poor man appeared, on being informed a gentle- 
man wanted to speak to him, with some expression of surprise 
in his gaunt features, to which recent sorrow had given an ex- 
pression yet more grisly. He made two or three profound 
reverences to Mannering, and then, standing erect, patiently 
waited an explanation of his commands. 

" You are probably at a loss to guess, Mr. Sampson," said 
Mannering, " what a stranger may have to say to you V* 

" Unless it were to request that I would undertake to train 
up some youth in polite letters, and humane learning — But I 
cannot — I cannot — I have yet a task to perform." 

"No, Mr. Sampson, my wishes are not so ambitious. I 
have no son, and my only daughter, I presume, you would not 
consider as a fit pupU." 

"Of a surety, no," replied the simple-minded Sampson. 
" Natheless, it was I who did educate Miss Lucy in all useful 
learning — ^albeit it was the housekeeper who did teach her those 
unprofitable exercises of hemming and shaping." 

" Well, sir," replied Mannering, " it is of Miss Lucy I meant 
to speak — ^you have, I presume, no recollection of me ?" 

Sampson always sufficiently absent in mind, neither remem- 



GUY MANNBRING. 107 

bered the astrologer of past years, nor even the stranger who 
had taken his patron's part against Glossin, so much had his 
friend's sudden death embroiled his ideas. 

" Well, that does not signify," pursued the Colonel ; " I am 
an old acquaintance of the late Mr. Bertram, able and willing 
to assist his daughter in her present circumstances. Besides. 
I have thoughts of making this purchase, and I should wish 
things kept in order about the place : will you have the good- 
ness to apply this small sum in the usual family expenses ?" — 
He put into the Dominie's hand a purse containing some gold. 

^'Pro-di-gi-ous !" exclaimed Dominie Sampson. ''But if 
your honour would tarry" 

''Impossible, sir— impossible," said Mannering, making his 
escape from him. 

" Pro-di-gi-ous !" a^ain exclaimed Sampson, following to the 
head of the stairs, still holding out the purse. " But as touch- 
ing this coined money" 

Mannering escaped down stairs as fast as possible. 

" Pro-di-gi-ous !" exclaimed Dominie Sampson, yet the third 
time, now standing at the front door. " But as touching this 
specie " 

But Mannering was now on horseback, and out of hearing^ 
The Dominie, who had never, either in his own right, or as 
trustee for another, been possessed of a quarter part of this 
sum, though it was not above twenty guineas, " took counsel," 
as he expressed himself, " how he should demean himself with 
respect unto the fine gold" thus left in his charge. Fortunately 
he found a disinterested adviser in Mac-Morlan, who pointed 
out the most proper means of disposiQg of it for contributing 
to Miss Bertram's convenience, being no doubt the purpose to 
which it was destined by the bestower. 

Many of the neighbouring gentry were now sincerely eager 
in pressing offers of hospitality and kindness upon Miss Bertram. 
But she felt a natural reluctance to enter any family, for the 
first time, as an object rather of benevolence than hospitality, 
and determined to wait the opinion and advice of her father's 
nearest female relation, Mrs. Margaret Bertram of Singleside, 
an old unmarried lady, to whom she wrote an accoimt of her 
present distressfiil situatioru 

The funeral of the late Mr. Bertram was performed with 
decent privacy, and the unfortunate young lady was now tc 



108 WAVERLET NOVELS. 

cousider herself as but the temporary tenant of the house in 
which she had been bom, and where her patience and soothing 
attentions had so long " rocked the cradle of declining age." 
Her communication with Mr. Mac-Morlan encouraged her to 
hope that she would not be suddenly or unkindly deprived of 
this asylum — But fortune had ordered otherwise. 

For two days before the appointed day for the sale of the 
lands and estate of EUangowan, Mac-Morlan daily expected 
the appearance of Colonel Mannering, or at least a letter con- 
taining powers to act for him. But none such arrived. Mr. 
Mac-Morlan waked early in the morning — ^walked over to the 
Post-office — there were no letters for him. He endeavoured to 
persuade himself that he should see Colonel Mannering to 
breakfast, and ordered his wife to place her best china, and 
prepare herself accordingly. But the preparations were in vain. 
" Could I have foreseen this," he said, " I would have travelled 
Scotland over, but I would have found some one to bid against 
Glossin." — Alas ! such reflections were all too late. The 
appointed hour arrived; and the parties met in the Mason's 
Lodge at Kippletringan, being the pla<5e fixed for the adjourned 
sale. Mac-Morlan spent as much time in preliminaries as 
decency would permit, and read over the articles of sale as 
slowly as if he had been reading his own death-warrant. He 
turned his eye every time the door of the room opened, with 
hopes which grew fainter and fainter. He listened to every 
noise in the street of the village, and endeavoured to distinguish 
in it the sound of hoofs or wheels. It was all in vain. A 
bright idea then occurred, that Colonel Mannering might have 
employed some other person in the transaction : he would not 
have wasted a moment's thought upon the want of confidence 
in himself which such a manoeuvre would have evinced. But 
this hope also was groundless. After a solemn pause, Mr. 
Glossin offered the upset price for the lands and barony of 
EUangowan. No reply was made, and no competitor appeared ; 
so, after a lapse of tBe usual interval by the running of a sand- 
glass, upon the intended purchaser entering the proper sureties, 
Mr. Mac-Morlan was obliged, in technical terms, to " find and 
declare the sale lawfully completed, and to prefer the said Gilbert 
Glossin as the purchaser of the said lands and estate." The 
honest wiiter refused to partake of a splendid entertainment 
with which Gilbert Glossin, Esquire, now of EUangowan, treated 



. GUY MANNERING. 109 

the rtiBt of the company, and returned home in huge bittemeas 
of spirit, which he vented in complaints against the fickleness 
and caprice of these Indian nabobs, who never knew what they 
would be at for ten days together. Fortune generously deter- 
mined to take the blame upon herself, and cut off even this 
vent of Mac-Morlan's resentment. 

An express arrived about six o'clock at night, " very particu- 
larly drunk," the maid-servant said, with a packet &om Colonel 
Mannering, dated four days back, at a town about a hundred 
miles' distance from Kippletringan, containing full powers to 
Mr. Mac-Morlan, or any one whom he might employ, to make 
the intended purchase, and stating, that some family business 
of consequence called the Colonel himself to Westoioreland, 
where a letter would find him, addressed to the care of Arthur 
Mervyn, Esq. of Mervyn Hall. 

Mac-Morlan, in the transports of his wrath, flung the power 
of attorney at the head of the innocent maid-servant, and 
was only forcibly withheld from horse-whipping the rascally y 
m^senger, by whose sloth and drunkenness the disappointment ^ 
had taken place. 



CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. 

My gold is gone, my money is spent, 

My land now take it nnto thee. 
Give me thy gold, good John o' the Scales, 

And thine for aye my land shall be. 

Then John he did him to record draw, 
And John he caste him a god's-pennie ; 

But for every pounde that John agreed, 
The land, I wis, was well worth three. 

Heir of Linne. 

The Galwegian John o' the Scales was a more clever fellow 
than his prototype. He contrived to make himself heir of 
Linne without the disagreeable ceremony of " telling down the 
good red gold." Miss Bertram no sooner heard this painful, 
and of late unexpected intelligence, than she proceeded in the 
preparations she had already made for leaving the mansion- 
honse immediately. Mr. Mac-Morlan assisted her in these 



110 WA.VERLEY NOVELS. 

arrangemeuts, and pressed upon her so kindly the hospitality 
and protection of his roof, until she should receive an answer 
from her cousId, or be enabled to adopt some settled plan of life, 
that she felt there would be unkindness in refusing an invita- 
tion urged with such earnestness. Mrs. Mac-Morlan was a 
ladylike person, and well qualified by birth and manners to 
receive the visit, and to make her hoitise agreeable to Miss 
Bertram. A home, therefore, and an hospitable reception, 
were secured to her, and she went on, with better heart, to pay 
the wages and receive the adieus of the few domestics of her 
father's family. 

Where there are estimable qualities on either side, this task 
is always affecting — ^the present circumstances rendered it doubly 
so. All received their due, and even a trifle more, and with 
thanks and good wishes, to which some added tears, took fare- 
well of their young mistress. There remained in the parlour 
only Mr. Mac-Morlan, who came to attend his guiest to his 
house. Dominie Sampson, and Miss Bertram. "And now," 
said the poor girl, " I must bid farewell to one of my oldest and 
kindest friends — God bless you, Mr. Sampson ! and requite to 
you all the kindness of your instructions to your poor pupil, 
and your friendship to him that is gone 1 I hope I shall often 
hear from you." She slid into his hand a paper containing 
some pieces of gold, and rose, as if to leave the room. 

Dominie Sampson also rose ; but it was to stand aghast with 
utter astonishment. The idea of parting from Miss Lucy, go 
where she might, had never once occurred to the simplicity of 
his understanding. He laid the money on the table. " It is 
certainly inadequate," said Mac-Morlan, mistaking his meaning, 
" but the circumstances " 

Mr. Sampson waved his hand impatiently — "It is not the lucre 
— it is not the lucre — but that I, that have ate of her father's 
loaf, and drank of his cup, for twenty years and more — ^to think 
that I am going to leave her — ^and to leave her in distress and 
dolour ! No, Miss Lucy, yon need never think it ! You would 
not consent to put forth your father's poor dog, and would you 
use me waur than a messan 1 No, Miss Lucy Bertram — ^while 
I live, I will not separate from you. I'll be no burden — I have 
thought how to prevent that. But, as Ruth said unto Naomi, 
* Entreat me not to leave thee, nor to depart from thee; 
for whither thou goest I will go, and where thou dweUest I 



GUT MANKERING. Ill 

will dwell ; thy people shall be my people, and thy God shall 
be my God. Where thou diest will I die, and there will I be 
buried. The Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but 
death do part thee and me." 

During this speech, the longest ever Dominie Sampson was 
known to utter, the affectionate creature's eyes streamed with 
tears, and neither Lucy nor Mao-Morlan could refrain from 
sympathising with this unexpected burat of feeling and attach- 
ment. '^IMr. Sampson," said Mac-Morlan, after having had 
recourse to his snuff-box and handkerchief alternately, "my 
house is large enough, and if you will accept of a bed there, 
while Miss Bertram honours us with her residence, I shall 
think myself very happy, and my roof much favoured by re- 
ceiving a man of your worth and fidelity." And then, with a 
delicacy which was meant to remove any objection on Miss 
Bertram's part to bringing with her this unexpected satellite, 
he added, " My business requires my frequently having occasion 
for a better accountant than any of my present clerks, and I 
should be glad to have recourse to your assistance in that way 
now and then." 

" Of a surety, of a surety," said Sampson eagerly ; " I under- 
stand book-keeping by double entry and the Italian method." 

Our postilion had thrust himself into the room to announce 
his chaise and horses ; he tarried, unobserved, during this extra- 
ordinary scene, and assured Mrs. Mac-Candlish it was the most 
moving thing he ever saw ; " the death of the grey mare, puir 
hizzie, was naething till't." This trifling circumstance after- 
wards had consequences of greater moment to the Dominie. 

The visitors were hospitably welcomed by Mrs. Mac-Morlan, 
to whom, as well as to others, her husband intimated that he 
had engaged Dominie Sampson's assistance to disentangle some 
perplexed accounts; during which occupation he would, for 
convenience sake, reside with the family. Mr. Mac-Morlan's 
knowledge of the world induced him to put this colour upon 
the matter, aware, that however honourable the fidelity of the 
Dominie's attachment might be, both to his own heart and to 
the family of Ellangowan, his exterior ill qualified him to be a 
" squire of dames," and rendered him upon the whole, rather a 
ridiculous appendage to a beautiftd young, woman of seventeen. 

Dominie Sampson achieved with great zeal such tasks as Mr. 
Mac-Morlan chose to intrust him with; but it was speedilj 



112 WAVEKLEY NOVELS. 

observed that at a certain hour after breakfast he regularly 
disappeared, and returned a^ain about dinner time. The eveD- 
ing he occupied in the labour of the ofl&ce. On Saturday, he 
appeared before Mr. Mac-Morlan with a look of great triumph, 
and laid on the table two pieces of gold. 

"What is this for. Dominie 1" said Mac-Morlan. 

"First to indemnify you of your charges in my behalf, 
worthy sir — and the balance for the use of Miss Lucy Bertram." 

"But, Mr. Sampson, your labour in the office much more 
than recompenses me — I am your debtor, my good friend." 

" Then be it aU," said the Dominie, waving his hand, " for 
Miss Lucy Bertram's behoof." 

" Well, but, Dominie, this money " 

" It is honestly come by, Mr. Mac-Morlan ; it is the bountiful 
reward of a young gentleman, to whom I am teaching the 
tongues ; reading with him three hours daUy." 

A few more questions extracted from the Dominie, that this 
liberal pupil was young Hazlewood, and that he met his 
preceptor daily at the house of Mrs. Mac-Candlish, whose 
proclamation of Sampson's disinterested attachment to the 
young lady had procured him this indefatigable and bounteous 
scholar. 

Mac-Morlan was much struck with what he heard. Dominie 
Sampson was doubtless a very good scholar, and an excellent 
man, and the classics were unquestionably very well worth 
reading; yet that a young man of twenty should ride seven 
miles and back again each day in the week, to hold this 
sort of tite-drtite of three hours, was a zeal for literature to 
which he was not prepared to give entire credit. Little art 
was necessary to sift the Donunie, for the honest man's head 
never admitted any but the most direct and simple ideas. 
" Does Miss Bertram know how your time is engaged, my good 
friend 1" 

" Surely not as yet — ^Mr. Charles recommended it should be 
concealed from her, lest she should scruple to accept of the 
small assistance arising from it ; but," he added, " it would not 
be possible to coiiceal it long, since Mr. Charles proposed taking 
his lessons occasionally in this house." 

"0, he does!" said Mac-Morlan: "Yes, yes, lean under- 
stand that better. — And pray, Mr. Sampson, are these three 
hoiu^ entirely spent in construing and translating 1" 



GUT MANNERING. 113 

".Doubtless, no — we have also colloqirial intercourse to 
sweeten study — neque semper a/rcv/m tendit Apollo,** 

The querist proceeded to elicit from this Galloway Phcebus 
what their discourse chiefly turned upon. 

" Upon our past meetings at EUangowan — and truly, I 
think veiy often we discourse concerning Miss Lucy — ^for Mr. 
Charles Hazlewood, in that particular, resembleth me, Mr. Mao- 
Morlan. When I begin to speak of her I never know when 
to stop — and, as I say (jocularly), she cheats us out of half our 
lessons.'' 

"0 ho!" thought Mac-Morlan; "sits the wind in that 
quarter? IVe heard something like this before." 

He then began to consider what conduct was safest for his 
proUgie, and even for himself, for the senior Mr. Hazlewood 
was powerftd, wealthy, ambitious, and vindictive, and looked for V 
both fortune and title in any connexion which his son might 
form. At length, having the highest opinion of his guest's 
good sense and penetration, he determined to take an oppor- 
tunity, when they should happen tQ be alone, to communicate 
the matter to her aa a simple piece of intelligence. He did so 
in as natural a mamier as he could : — " I wish you joy of your 
friend Mr. Sampson's good fortune, Miss Bertram ; he has got 
a pupil who pays him two guineas for twelve lessons of Greek 
and Latin." 

" Indeed !— I am equally happy and surprised. Who can be 
so liberal 1 — ^is Colonel Mannering returned ?" 

" No, no, not Colonel Mannering ; but what do you think of 
your acquaintance, Mr. Charles Hazlewood? He talks of 
taking his lewons here; I wish we may have accommodation 
for him." 

Lucy blushed deeply. " For Heaven's sake, no, Mr. Mac- 
Morlan — do not let that be ;— Charles Hazlewood has had 
enough of mischief about that already." 

" About the classics, my dear young lady !" wilfully seeming 
to misunderstand her ; — " most young gentlemen have so* at 
one period or another, sure enough ; but his present studies are 
voluntary." 

Miss Bertram let the conversation drop, and her host made 
no effort to renew it, as she seemed to pause upon the intelli- 
gence, in order- to form some internal resolution. 

The next day Miss Bertram took an opportunity of conversing 

VOL. II. I 



114 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

with Mr. Sampson. Expressing in the kindest manner her 
grateful thanks for his disinterested attachment, and her joy 
that he had got such a provision, she hinted to him that his 
present mode of superintending Charles Hazlewood's studies 
must be so inconvenient to his pupil, that, while that engage- 
ment lasted, h^ had better consent to a temporary separation, 
and reside either with his scholar, or as near him as might be. 
Sampson refused, as indeed she had expected, to listen for a 
moment to this proposition — ^he would not quit her to be made 
preceptor to the Prince of Wales. "But I see," he added, 
" you are too proud to share my pittance ; and peradventure I 
grow wearisome unto you." 

" No, indeed — you were my father's ancient, ahuost his only 
friend ; — I am not proud — God knows, I have no reason to be 
so. . You shall do what you judge best in other matters ; but 
oblige me by teUing Mr. Charles Hazlewood, that you had some 
conversation with me concerning his studies, and that I was of 
opinion that his carrying them on in this house was altogether 
impracticable, and not to be thought of." 

Dominie Sampson left her presence altogether crest-fallen, 
and, as he shut the door, could not help muttering the " varvum 
etmutabile*' of Virgil. Next day he appeared with a very 
rueful visage, and tendered Miss Bertram a letter. "Mr. 
Hazlewood," he said, " was to discontinue his lessons, though 
he had generously made up the pecuniary loss. But how will 
he make up the loss to himself of the knowledge he might have 
acquired under my instruction ? Even in that one article of 
writing, he was an hour before he could write that brief note, 
and destroyed many scrolls, four quills, and some good white ' 
])aper : I would have taught him in three weeks a firm, current, 
clear, and legible hand — ^he should have been a caligrapher ; 
but Grod's will be done." 

The letter contained but a few lines, deeply regretting and 
murmuring against Miss Bertiram's cruelty, who not only refused- 
to see him, but to permit him in the most indirect manner to 
hear of her health and contribute to her service. But it 
concluded with assurances that her severity was vain, and that 
nothing could shake the attachment of Charles Hazlewood. 

Under the active patronage of Mrs. Mac-Condlish, Sampson 
picked up some other scholars — very different indeed from 
Obarles Hazlewood in rank — fmd whose lessons were proportion- 



GUY MANNERmO. 116 

ally unproductive. Still, however, he gained something, and 
it was the glory of his heart to cany it to Mr. Mao-Morlan 
weekly, a slight peculium only subtracted, to supply his snuff- 
box and tobacco-pouch. 

And here we must leave Kippletringan to look after our 
hero, lest our readers should fear they are to lose sight of him \. 
for another quarter of a century. 



CHAPTER SIXTEENTH. 

Our Polly is a sad slut, nor heeds what we have taught her ; 

I wonder any man alive will ever rear a daughter ; 

For when she's drest with care and cost, all tempting, fine, and gay, 

Aa men should serve a cucumber, she flbigs herself away. 

Begqab*s Opera. 

Apteb the death of Mr. Bertram, Mannering had set out 
upon a short tour, proposiog to return to the neighbourhood of 
Ellangowan before the sale of that property should take place. 
He went, accordingly, to Edinbur^, and elsewhere, and it was 
in his return towards the south-western district of Scotland, in 
which our scene lies, that, at a post-town about a hundred 
miles from Kippletringan, to which he had requested his friend, 
Mr. Mervyn, to address his letters, he received one from that 
gentleman, which contained rather impleasing intelligence. 
We have assumed already the privilege of acting a secretis to 
this gentleman, and therefore shall present the reader with an 
extract from this epistle. 

" I beg your pardon, my dearest friend, for the pain I have 
given you, in forcing you to open wounds so festering as those 
your letter referred to. I have always heard, though erroneously 
perhaps, that the attentions of Mr. Brown were iotended for 
Miss Mannering. But, however that were, it could not be 
supposed that iu your situation his boldness should escape 
notice and chastisement. Wise men say, that we resign to 
civil society our natural rights of self-defence only on condition 
that the ordinances of law should protect us. Where the price 
cannot be paid, the resignation becomes void. For instance. 



116 WAVEKLET NOTELS. 

no ooe supposes that I am not entitled to defend my purse and 
person against a highwayman, as much as if I were a wild 
Indian who owns neither law nor magistracy. The question 
of resistance, or submission, must be determined by my means 
and situation. But, if, armed and equal in force, I submit to 
ii^ustice and yiolence from any man, high or low, I presume it 
will hardly be attributed to religious or moral feeling in me, or 
in any one but a quaker. An aggression on my honour seems 
to me much the same. The insult, however triiling in itself, 
is one of much deeper consequence to all views in life than any 
wrong which can be inflicted by a depredator on the highway, 
and to redress the ii^med party is much less in the power of 
public jurisprudence, or rather it is entirely beyond its reach. 
If any man chooses to rob Arthur Mervyn of the contents of his 
purse, supposing the said Arthur has not means of defence, or 
the sMU and courage to use them, the assizes at Lancaster or 
Carlisle will do him justice by tucking up the robber : — Yet 
who will say I am bound to wait for this justice, and submit to 
being plimdered in the first instance, if I have myself the means 
and spirit to protect my own property ? But if an affront is 
offered to me, submission under which is to tarnish my character 
for ever with men of honour, and for which the twelve Judges 
of England, with the chancellor to boot, can afford me no 
redress, by what rule of law or reason am I to be deterred from 
protecting what ought to be, and is, so infinitely dearer to every 
man of honour than his whole fortune? Of the religious views 
of the matter I shall say nothing, imtil I find a reverend divine 
who shall condemn self-defence in the article of life and prop^*ty. 
If its propriety in that case be generally admitted, I suppose 
little distinction can be drawn between defence of person and 
goods, and protection of reputation. That the latter is liable 
to be assailed by persons of a different rank in life, untainted 
perhaps in morsJs, and fair in character, cannot affect my l^gal 
right of self-defence. I may be sorry that circumstances have 
engaged me in personal strife with such an individual : but I 
should feel th6 same sorrow for a generous enemy who fell under 
my sword in a national quarrel. I shall leave the question 
with the casuists, however ; only observing, that what I have 
written will not avail either the professed duellist, or him who 
is the aggressor in a dispute of honour. I only presume to 
exculpate him who is dragged into the field by such an offence. 



GUY MANNlOaNa 117 

as, submitted to in patience, would forfeit for ever his rank and 
estimation in society. 

'* I am sorry you have thoughts of settling in Scotland, and 
yet glad that you will still be at no immeasurable distance, and 
that the latitude is all in our favour. To move to Westmore- 
land from Devonshire might make an East Indian shudder; 
but to come to us from Galloway or Dumfriesshire, is a step, 
though a short one, nearer the sim. Besides, if , as I suspect, 
the estate in view be connected with the old haunted castle in 
which you played the astrologer in your northern tour some 
twenty years since, I have heard you too often describe the 
scene with comic unction, to hope you will be deterred from 
making the purchase. I trust, however, the hospitable gossip- 
ing Laird has not run himself upon the shaUows, and that his 
chaplain, whom you so often made us laugh at, is still in rervm 
natura, 

"And here, dear Mannering, I wish I could stop, for I have 
incredible pain in telling the rest of my story ; although I am 
sure I can warn you against any intentional impropriety on the 
part of my temporary ward, Julia Mannering. But I must 
still earn my coUege nicknaine of Downright Dunstable. In 
one word, then, here is the matter. 

" Your daughter has much of the romantic turn of your dis- 
position, with a little of that love of admiration which all pretty 
women share less or more. She will besides, apparently, be 
your heiress ; a trifling circunystance to those who view Julia 
with my eyes, but a prevailing bait to the specious, artful, and 
worthless. You know how I have jested with her about her 
sofb melancholy, and lonely walks at morning before any one is 
up, and iu the moonlight when all should be gone to bed, or 
set down to cards, which is the same thing. The incident 
which follows may not be beyond the bounds of a joke, but I 
had rather the jest upon it came from you than me. 

" Two or three times during the last fortnight, I heard, at a 
late hour in the night, or very early in the morning, a flageolet 
play the little Hiudu tune to which your daughter is so partial. 
I thought for some time that some tuneful domestic, whose 
taste for music was laid under constraint during the day, chose 
that silent hour to imitate the strains which he had caught up 
by the ear during his attendance in the drawing-room. But 
last night I sat late in my study, which is immediately under 



118 WAVERLBY NOVELS. 

Miss Maiinering's apartment, and, to my surprise, I not only 
heard the flageolet distinctly, but satisfl^ myself that it came 
from the lake under the window. Curious to know who 
serenaded us at that unusual hour, I stole softly to the window 
of my apartment. But there were other watchers than me. 
You may remember, Miss Mannering preferred that apartment 
on account of a balcony which opened from her window upon 
the lake. — ^Well, sir, I heard the sash of her window thrown 
up, the shutters opened, and her own voice in conversation 
with some person who answered from below. This is not, 
^Much ado about nothing:' I could not be mistaken in her 
voice and such tones, so soft, so insrauating — and, to say the 
truth, the accents from below were in passion's tenderest cadence 
too — ^but of the sense I can say nothing. I raised the sash of 
my own window that I might hear something more than the 
mere mumfur of this Spanish rendezvous; but though I used 
every precaution, the noise alarmed the speakers; down slid 
the young lady's casement, and the shutter's were barred in an 
instant. The dash of a pair of oars in the water announced the 
retreat of the male person of the dialogue. Indeed, I saw his 
boat which he rowed with great swiftness and dexterity, fly 
across the lake like a twelve-oared barge. Next morning I 
examined some of my domestics, as if by accident, and I found 
the game-keeper, when making his rounds, had twice seen that 
boat beneath the house, with a single person, and had heard 
the flageolet. I did not care to press any further questions, 
for fear of implicating Julia in the opinions of those of whom 
they might be asked. Next morning, at breakfast, I dropped 
a casual hint about the serenade of the evening before, and I 
promise you Miss Mannering looked red and pale alternately. 
I immediately gave the circumstance such a turn as might lead 
her to suppose that my observation was merely casual. I have 
since caused a watch-light to be burnt in my library, and have 
left the shutters open, to deter the approach of our nocturnal 
guest ; and I have stated the severity of approaching winter, 
and the rawness of the fogs, as an objection to solitary walks. 
Miss Mannering acquiesced with a passiveness which is no part 
of her character, and which, to tell you the plain truth, is a 
feature about the business which I like least of all. Julia has 
too much of her own dear papa's disposition to be curbed in 



GT7Y MANNERING. 119 

any of her humours, were there not some little lurking consci- 
ousness that it may be as prudent to avoid debate. 

" Now my story is told, and you will judge what you ought 
to do. I have not mentioned the matter to my good woman, 
who, a faithful secretary to her sex's foibles, would certainly 
remonstrate against your bemg made acquainted with these 
particulars, and might, instead, take it into her head to exercise 
her own eloquence on Miss Mannering, — a faculty, which, 
however powerful when directed against me, its legitimate 
object, might, I fear, do more harm than good in the case 
supposed. Perhaps even you yourself will find it most prudent 
to act without remonstrating, or appeajring to be aware of this 
little anecdote. Julia is very like a certain jfriend of mine , 
she has a quick and lively imagination, and keen feelings, 
which are apt to exaggerate both the good and evil they find- 
in life. She is a charming girl, however, as generous and 
spirited as she is lovely. I paid her the kiss you sent her with 
all my heart, and she rapped my fingers for my reward with 
all hers. Pray return as soon as you can. Meantime, rely 
upon the care of, yours faithfully, Arthub Mervyn. 

" P. S. — You wiQ naturally wish to know if I have the least 
guess concerning the person of the serenader. In truth, I have 
none. There is no young gentleman of these parts, who might 
be ID rank or fortune a match for Miss Julia, that I think at 
all likely to play such a character. But on the other side of 
the lake, nearly opposite to Mervyn-hall, is a d — d cake-house, 
the resort of walking gentlemen of all descriptions, — ^poets, 
players, painters, musicians, who come to rave, and recite, and 
madden, about this picturesque land of ours. It is paying 
some penalty for its beauties, that they are the means of draw- 
ing this swarm of coxcombs together. But were Julia my 
daughter, it is one of those sort of fellows that I should fear on 
her account. She is generous and romantic, and writes six 
sheets a-week to a female correspondent ; and it's a sad thing 
to lack a subject in such a case, either for exercise of the 
feelings or of the pen. Adieu, once more. Were I to treat 
this matter more seriously than I have done, I should do in- 
justice to your feelings ; were I altogether to overlook it, T 
should discredit my own." 

The consequence of this letter waa, that having first de- 



120 WAVEKLEY NOVBLS. 

spatched the faithless messenger with the necessary powers to 
Mr. Mac-Morlan for purchasing the estate of EUangowan, 
Colonel Maiinering turned his, horse's head in a more southerly 
direction, and neither " stinted nor staid," until he arrived at 
the mansion of his Mend Mr. Mervyn, upon the banks of one 
uf the lakes of Westmoreland. 



CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH. 

Heaven first, in its mercy, taught mortals their letters, 
For ladies in limbo, and lovers in fetters. 
Or some author, who, placing his persons before ye, 
UngaUantly leaves them to write their own story. 

PoFE, imitcUed, 

When Mannering returned to England, his first object had 
been to place his daughter in a seminary for female education, 
of established character. Not, however, finding her progress 
in the accomplishments which he wished her to acquire so 
rapid as his impatience expected, he had withdrawn Miss 
Mannering from the school at the end of the first quarter. So 
she had only time to form an eternal friendship with Miss 
Matilda Marchmont, a young lady about her own age, which 
was nearly, eighteen. To her faithful eye were addressed those 
formidable quires which issued forth from Mervyn-hall, on the 
wings of the post, while Miss Mannering was a guest there. 
The perusal of a few short extracts from these may be necessary 
to render our story intelligible : 

First Extract. 

'^.Alas ! my dearest Matilda, what a tale is mine to tell ! 
Misfortune from the cradle has set her seal upon your unhappy 
friend. That we should be severed for so slight a cause — an 
ungrammatical phrase in my Italian exercise, and three false 
notes in one of Paesiello's sonatas ! But it is a part of my 
father's character, of whom it is impossible to say whether I 
love, admire, or fear him iHie most. His success in life and in 
war — ^his habit of making every obstacle yield before the energy 
of his exertions, even where tiiey seemed iosarmountable — all 



GUY MANNEBINO. 121 

theBe liave given a hasty and peremptoiy cast to his character, 
which can neither endure contradiction, nor make allowance 
for deficiencies. Then he is himself so very accomplished. Do 
you know there was a murmur^ half confirmed too by some 
mysterious words which dropped &om my poor mother, that 
he possesses other sciences, now lost to the world, which enable 
the possessor to summon up before him the dark and shadowy 
forms of future events ! Does not the very idea of such a 
power, or even of the high talent and commanding intellect 
which the world may mistake for it, — does it not, dear Matilda, 
throw a mysterious grandeur about its possessor ? You will 
call this romantic: but consider I was bom in the land of 
talisman and spell, and my childhood lulled by tales which 
you can only eiy'oy through the gauzy frippery of a French 
translation. Matilda^ I wish you could have seen the dusky 
visages of my Indian attendants, bending in earnest devotion 
round the magic narrative that flowed, half poetry, half prose, 
from the lips of the tale-teller ! No wonder that European 
fiction soimds cold and meagre, after the wonderful effects 
which I have seen the romances of the East produce upon their 
hearers." 

Second Extsaot. 

" You are possessed, my dear Matilda, of my bosom-secret, 
in those sentiments with which I regard Brown. I wiU not 
say his memory — I am conviaced he lives, and is faithful. His 
addresses to me were countenanced by my deceased parent ; 
imprudently countenanced perhaps, considering the prejudices 
of my father in favour of birth and rank. But I, then almost 
a girl, could not be expected surely to be wiser than she, imder 
whose charge nature had placed me. My father, constantly 
engaged in military duty, I saw but at rare intervals, and was 
taught to look up to him with more awe than confidence. 
Would to Heaven it had been otherwise ! It might have been 
better for us aU at this day !" 

Third Exteact. 

'' You ask me why I do not make known to my father that 
Brown yet lives, at least that he survived the wound he received 
in that unhappy duel ; and had written to my mother, expressing 
his entire convalescence, and his hope of speedily escaping from 



122 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

captivity. A soldier, that ' in the trade of war has oft Blain 
men/ feels probably no uneasiness at reflecting upon the 
supposed catastrophe, which almost turned me into stone. 
And should I show him that letter, does it not follow, that 
Brown, alive and maintaining with pertinacity the pretensions 
to the affections of your poor friend, for which my father 
formerly sought his life, would be a more formidable disturber 
of Colonel Mannering's peace of mind than his supposed grave 1 
If he escapes from the hands of these marauders, I am convinced 
he will soon be in England, and it will be then time to consider 
how his existence is to be disclosed to my father. — But if, alas ! 
my earnest and confident hope should betray me, what would 
it avail to tear open a mystery fraught with so many painful 
recollections? — My dear mother had such dread of its being 
known, that I think she even suffered my father to suspect that 
Brown's attentions were directed towards herself, rather than 
permit him to discover their real object: — and 0, Matilda, 
whatever respect I owe to the memory of a deceased parent, 
let me do justice to a living one. I cannot but condemn the 
dubious policy which she adopted, as unjust to my father, and 
highly perilous to herself and me. But peace be with her 
ashes ! — ^her actions were guided by the heart rather than the 
head ; and shall her daughter, who inherits all her weakness, 
be the first to withdraw the veil from her defects !" 

Fourth Extbact. 

" Mervtn Hali.. 
" If India be the land of magic, this, my dearest Matilda, is 
the country of romance. The scenery is such as nature brings 
together in her sublimest moods ; — sounding cataracts — hiUs 
which rear their scathed heads to the sky — lakes, that, winding 
up the shadowy valleys, lead at- every turn to yet more romantic 
recesses — crocks which catch the clouds of heaven. All the 
wHdness of Salvator here — and there, the fairy scenes of Claude. 
I am happy, too, in finding at least one object upon which my 
father can share my enthusiasm. An admirer of nature, both 
as an artist and a poet, I have experienced the utmost pleasure 
from the observations by which he explains the character and 
the effect of these brilliant specimens of her power. I wish he 
would settle in this enchanting land. But his views lie still 
farther north, and he is at present absent on a tour in Scotland, 



GUY MANNERING. 123 

looking, I believe, for some purchase of land which may suit 
him as a residence. He is partial, fi:om early recollections, to 
that country. So, my dearest Matilda, I must be yet farther 
removed from you before I am established in a home. — And 
how delighted shall I be when I can say, Come, Matilda, and 
be the guest of your faithful Julia ! 

^^ I am at present the inmate of Mr. and Mrs. Mervyn, old 
friends of my father. The latter is precisely a good sort of 
woman; — lady-like and housewifely, but for accomplishments 
or faucy — good lack, my dearest Matilda, your friend might as 
well seek sympathy from Mrs. Teach'em, — ^you see I have not 
forgot school nicknames. Mervyn is a different — quite a different 
being from my fsither ; yet he amuses and endures me. He is 
fat and good-natured, gifted with strong shrewd sense, and some 
powers of humour; but having been handsome, I suppose, in 
his youth, has still some pretension to be a hea/u ga/rgon, as well 
as an enthusiastic agriculturist. I delight to make him scramble 
to the tops of eminences and to the foot of waterfalls, and am 
obliged in turn to admire his turnips, his lucem, and his timothy- 
grass. He thinks me, I fancy, a simple romantic Miss, with 
some — (the word will be out) beauty, and some good-nature ; 
and I hold that the gentleman has good taste for. the female 
outside, and do not expect he should comprehend my sentiments 
farther. So he rallies, hands, and hobbles (for the dear creature 
has got the gout too), and teUs old stories of high life, of which 
he has seen a great deal ; and I listen, and smile, and look as 
pretty, as pleasant, and as simple as I can, — and we do very 
well. 

'' But, alas : my dearest Matilda, how would time pass away, 
even in this paradise of romance, tenanted as it is by a pair 
assorting so ill with the scenes around them, were it not for 
your fidelity iu replying to my uninteresting details ? Pray do 
not fail to write three times a-week at least — ^you can be at no 
loss what to say." 

Fifth Extract. 

" How shall I communicate what I have now to tell ! My 
hand and heart still flutter so much, that the task of writing is 
almost impossible ! Did I not say that he lived ? did I not say 
I would not despair ? How could you suggest, my dear Matilda, 
that my feelings, considering I had parted from him so young, 



124 WAVEBLET NOVELS. 

rather arose from the warmth of mj imaginatiDn than of m^ 
heart 1 ! I was sure that they were genuine, deceitful as the 
dictates of our bosom so frequently are. But to my tale — ^let it 
be, my friend, the most sacred, as it is the most sincere plec^e 
of our Mendship. 

" Our hours here are early — earlier than my heart, with its 
load of care, can compose itself to rest. I, therefore, usuaUy 
take a book for an hour or two after retiring to my own -room, 
which I think I have told you opens to a small balcony, looking 
down upon that beautiful lake, of which I attempted to give 
you a slight sketch. Mervyn-hall, being partly an ancient 
building, and constructed with a view to defence, Is situated on 
the verge of the lake. A stone dropped from the projecting 
balcony plunges into water deep enough to float a skiff. I had 
left my window partly unbarred, that, before I went to bed, I 
might, according to my custom, look out and see the moonlight 
shining upon the lake. I was deeply engaged with that beauti- 
ful scene in the Merchant of Venice, where two lovers, describ- 
ing the stillness of a summer night, enhance on each other its 
charms, and was lost in the associations of story and of feeling 
which it awakens, when I heard upon the lake the sound of 
a flageolet. . I have told you it was Brown's favourite instru- 
ment. Who could touch it in a night which, though- still and 
serene, was too cold, and too late in the year, to invite forth 
any wanderer for mere pleasure ? I drew yet nearer the window, 
and barkened with breathless attention ; — ^the sounds paused a 
space, were then resumed — ^paused again — and again reached my 
ear, ever coming nearer and nearer. At length, I distinguished 
plainly that little Hindu air which you called my favourite — I 
have told you by whom it was taught me ; — ^the instrument, 
the tones, were his own 1 Was it earthly music, or notes passing 
on the wind to warn me of his death ? 

" It was some time ere I could summon courage to step on 
the balcony — nothing could have emboldened me to do so but 
the strong conviction of my mind that he was still alive, and 
that we should again meet 3 but that conviction did embolden 
me, and I ventured, though with a throbbing heart. There 
was a small skiff, with a single pierson — 0, Matilda, it was him* 
self! — I knew his appearance after so long an absence, and 
through the shadow of the night, as perfectly as if we had parted 
yesterday, and met again in the broad sunshine 1 He guided 



GUY MANNERING. 135 

his boat under the balcony, and spoke to me. I hardly knew 
what he said, or what I replied. Indeed, I conld scarcely speak 
for weeping, — ^but they were joyftd tears. We were disturbed 
by the barldng of a dog at some distance, and parted, but not 
before he had coigured me to prepare to meet him at the same 
place and hour this evening. 

** But where and to what is all this tending ? Can I answer 
this question ? I cannot. Heaven, that saved him from death, 
and delivered him firom captivity — ^that saved my father, too, 
from shedding the blood of one who would not have blemished 
a hair of his head, — that Heaven must guide me out of this 
labyrinth. Enough for me the firm resolution, that Matilda 
shall not blush for her friend, my father for his daughter, nor 
my lover for her on whom he has fixed his affection.*' 



CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH. 

Talk with a man out of a window ! — a proper saying. 

Much Ado about Nothinq. 

We must proceed with our extracts fi-om Miss Mannering's 
letters, which throw light upon natural good sense, principle, 
and feelings, blemished by an imperfect education, and the foll^ 
of a misjudging mother, who called her husband in her heart a 
tyrant until she feared him as such, and read romances until she 
became so enamoured of the complicated intrigues which they 
contain, as to assume the management of a little family novel of 
her own, and constitute her daughter, a girl of sixteen, the 
prineipal heroine. She delighted in petty mystery, and intrigue, 
and secrets, and yet trembled at the indignation which these 
paltry manoeuvres excited in her husband's mind. Thus she 
frequently entered upon a scheme merely for pleasure, or 
perhaps for the love of contradiction — plunged deeper into it 
than she was aware— endeavoured to extricate herself by new 
arts, or to cover her error by dissimulation — ^became involved 
in meshes of her own weaving, and was forced to carry on, for 
fear of discovery, machinations whidi she had at first resorted 
to in mere wantonness. 

Fortimately the young man whom she so imprudentlv 



126 WAVBRLEY NOVELS. 

introduced into her intimate society, and encouraged to look up 
to her daughter, had a fund of principle and honest pride, 
which rendered him a safer intimate than Mrs. Mannering' 
ought to have dared to hope or expect. The obscurity of his 
birth could alone be objected to him ; in every other respect, 

With prospects bright upon the world he came, 
Pure love of virtue, strong desire of fame ; 
Men watched the way his lofty mind would take, 
And all foretold the progress he would make. 

£ut it could not be expected that he should resist the si^ure 
which Mrs. Mannering's imprudence threw in Jiis way, or avoid 
becoming attached to a young lady, whose beauty and manners 
might have justified his passion, even in scenes where these are 
more generally met with, than in a remote fortress in our Indian 
settlements. The scenes which followed have been partly 
detailed in Mannering's letter to Mr. Mervyn ; and to expand 
what is there stated into further explanation, would- be to abuse 
the patience of our readers. 

We shall, therefore, proceed with our promised extracts from 
Miss Mannering's letters to her friend : — 

Sixth Extract. 

" I have seen him again, Matilda — seen him twice. I have 
used every argument to convince him that this secret intercourse 
is dangerous to us both. I even pressed him to pursue his 
views of fortune without further regard to me, and to consider 
my peace of mind as sufficiently secured by the knowledge that 
he had not fallen under my father's sword. He answers — ^but 
how can I detail. all he has to answer? He claims those hopes 
as his due which, my mother permitted him to entertain,' and 
would persuade me to the madness of a union without my 
father's sanction. But to this, Matilda, I will not be persuaded. 
I have resisted, I have subdued, the rebellious feelings which 
arose to aid his plea ; — ^yet how to extricate myself from this 
unhappy labyrinth, in which fate and folly have entangled us 
both! 

"I have thought upon it, Matilda, till my head is almost 
giddy — ^nor can I conceive a better plan than to make a full 
confession to my father. He deserves it, for his kindness is 
unceasing; and I think I have observed in his character, since 



GTJY MANNERING. 127 

I have studied it more nearly, that his harsher feelings are 
chiefly excited where he suspects deceit or imposition ; and in 
that respect, perhaps, his character was formerly misunderstood 
by one who waa dear to him. He has, too, a tinge of romance 
in his disposition ; and I have seen the narrative of a generous 
action, a trait of heroism, or virtuous self-denial, extract tears 
from him, which refused to flow at a tale of mere distress. But 
then, Brown urges, that he is personally hostile to him. And 
the obscurity of his birth — ^that would be indeed a stumbling- 
block. Matilda, I hope none of your ancestors ever fought 
at Poictiers or A^court ! If it were not for the veneration 
which my father attiaches to the memory of old Sir Miles 
Mannering, I should make out my explanation with half the 
tremor which must now attend it." 

Seventh Extract. 

"I have this instant received your letter — ^your most wel- 
come letter! Thanks, my dearest friend, for your sympathy 
and your' counsels — ^I can only repay them with unbounded 
confidence. 

"You ask me, what Brown is by origin, that his descent 
should be so unpleasing to my father. His story is shortly 
told. He is of Scottish extraction ; but, being left an orphan, 
his education was undertaken by a family of relations, settled 
in Holland. He was bred to commerce, and sent very early to 
one of our settlements in the East, where his guardian had a 
correspondent. But this correspondent was dead when he 
arrived in India, and he had no other resource than to offer 
himself as a derk to a counting-house. The breaking out of 
the war, and the straits to which we were at first reduced, threw 
the army open to ail young men who were disposed to embrace 
that mode of life; axid Brown, whose genius had a strong 
military tendency, was the first to leave what might have been 
the road to wealth, and to choose that of fame. The rest of his 
history is well known to you ; — ^but conceive the irritation of 
my father, who despises commerce, (though by the way, the 
best part of his property was made in that honourable pro- 
fession by my great-uncle), and has a particular antipathy to 
the Dutch — ^think with what ear he would be likely to receive 
proposals for his only child from Yanbeest Brown, educated for 
charity by the house of Yanbeest and Yanbruggen ! Matilda, 



128 WAVERLBY NOVELS. 

it will never do — ^nay, so childish am I, I hardly can help 
sympathising with his aristocratic feelings. Mrs. Yanbeest 
Brown! The name has little to recommend it to be sure. 
What children we are !" 

Eighth Extract 

" It is all over now, Matilda ! I shall never have courage to 
teU my father — ^nay, most deeply do I fear he has already 
learned my secret from another quarter, which will entirely 
remove the grace of my communication, and ruin whatever 
gleam of hope I had ventured to connect with it. Yester- 
night, Brown came as usual, and his flageolet on the lake 
announced his approach. We had agreed that he should con 
tinue to use this signal. These romantic lakes attract numerous 
visitors, who indulge their enthusiasm in visiting the scenery 
at aU hours, and we hoped, that if Brown were noticed from the 
house, he might pass for one of those admirers of nature, who 
was giving vent to his feelings through the medium of music. 
The sounds might also be my apology, should I be observed on 
the balcony. But last night, while I was eagerly enforcing my 
plan of a full confession to my father, which he as earnestly 
deprecated, we heard the window of Mr. Mervyn's library, 
which is under my room, open softly. I signed to Brown to 
make his retreat, and immediately re-entered, with some faint 
hopes that our interview had not been observed. 

'^ But alas ! Matilda, these hopes vanished the instant I 
beheld Mr. Mervyn's countenance at breakfast the next morning. 
He looked so provokingly intelligent and confidential, that, had 
I dared, I could have been more angry than ever I was in my 
life. But I must be on good behaviour, and my walks are now 
limited within his farm precincts, where the good gesntleman 
can amble along by my side without inconvenience. I have 
detected him once or twice attempting to sound my thoughts, 
and watch the expression of my countenance. He has talked 
of the flageolet more than once; and has at diflerent times 
made eulogiums upon the watchfulness and ferocity of his dogs, 
and the regularity with which the keeper makes his rounds 
with a loaded fowling-piece. He mentioned even man-traps 
and spring-guns. I should be loath to aflront my father's old 
friend in his own house ; but I do long to show him that I am 
my father's daughter a fact of which Mr. Mervyn will certainly 



GUY MANNERING. 129 

be convinced, if ever I trust my voice and temper with a reply 
to these indirect hints. Of one thing I am certain — ^I am 
gratefhl to him on that acconnt— he has not told Mrs. Mervyn. 
Lord help me, I should have had such lectures about the dangers 
of love and the night air on the lake, the risk arising from colds 
and fortune-hunters, the comfort and convenience of sack-whey 
and closed windows ! I cannot help trifling, Matilda^ though 
my heart is flad enough. What Brown will do, I cannot guess. 
I presume, however, the fear of detection prevents his resuming 
his nocturnal visits. He lodges at an inn on the opposite shore 
of the lake, under the name, he tells me, of Dawson — he 
haa a bad choice in names, that must be allowed. He has not 
left the army, I believe, but he says nothing of his present 
views. 

" To complete my anxiety, my father is returned suddenly, 
and in high displeasure. Our good hostess, as I learned from 
a bustling conversation between her housekeeper and her, had 
no expectation of seeing him for a week ; but I rather suspect 
his arrival was no surprise to his Mend Mr. Mervyn. His t-- 
manner to me was singularly cold and constrained — sufficiently 
80 to have damped all the courage with which I once resolved ^^ 
to throw myself on his generosity. He lays the blame of his 
being discomposed and out of humour to the loss of a purchase 
in the south-west of Scotland, on which he had set his heart ; 
but I do not suspect his equanimity of being so easily thrown 
off its balance. His first excursion was with Mr. Mervyn's barge 
across the lake, to the inn I have mentioned. You may 
imagine the agony with which I waited his return. Had - ^ 
he recognised Brown, who can guess the consequence ? He 
returned, however, apparently without having made any dis- 
covery. I understand, that in consequence of his late disap- 
pointment, he means now to hire a house in the neighbour- 
hood of this same Ellangowan, of which I am doomed to hear 
so much — ^he seems to think it probable that the estate for 
which he wishes may soon be again in the market. I will not 
send away this letter until I hear more distinctly what are his 
intentions." 

"I have now had an interview with my father, as confi- 
dential as, I presxmie, he means to allow ma He requested 
me to-day, after breakfast, to walk with him into the library : 
VOL. n. * K 



>> 



k. 



130 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

my knees, Matilda, shook under me, and it is no exaggeration 
to say I could scarce follow him into the room. I feared I knew 
not what : from my childhood I had seen all around him tremble 
at his frown. He motioned me to seat myself, and I never 
obeyed a conmiand so readily, for, in truth, I could hardly stand. 
He himself continued to walk up and down the room. You 
have seen my father, and noticed I recollect, the remarkably 
expressive cast of his features. His eyes are naturally rather 
light in colour, but agitation or anger gives them a darker and 
more fiery glance ; he has a custom also of drawing in his lips, 
when much moved, which implies a combat between native 
ardour of temper and the habitual . power of self-coromand. 
This was the first time we had been alone since his return from 
Scotland, and, as he betrayed these tokens of agitation, I had 
little doubt that he was about to enter upon the subject I most 
dreaded. 

" To my unutterable relief, I found I was mistaken, and that 
whatever he knew of Mr. Mervyn's suspicions or discoveries, he 
did not intend to converse with me on the topic. Coward sus I 
was, I was inexpressibly relieved, though if he had really inves- 
tigated the reports which may have come to his ear, the reality 
could have been nothing to what his suspicions might have 
conceived. But though my spirits rose high a,t my unexpected 
escape, I had not courage myself to provoke the discussion, and 
remained silent to receive his conmiands. 

" ^ Julia,' he said, ' my agent writes me from Scotland, that 
he has been able to hire a house for me, decently furnished, and 
with the necessary accommodation for my family — ^it i^ within 
three miles of that I had designed to purchase.' — —Then he 
made a pause, and seemed to expect an answer. 

" * Whatever place of residence suits you, sir, must be per- 
fectly agreeable to me.' 

" * Umph ! — ^I do not propose, however, Julia, that you shaU 
reside quite alone in this house during the winter.' 

"Mr. and Mrs. Mervyn, thought I to myself. — 'Whatever 
company is agreeable to you, sir,' I answered aloud 

" * 0, there is a little too much of this universal spirit of 
submission; an excellent disposition in action, but your con- 
stantly repeating the jargon of it, puts me in mind of the 
eternal salaams of our black dependents in the East. In short, 
Julia, I know you have a relish for society, and I intend ifi 



GUY MANNERING. 131 

invite a young person, the daughter of a deceased Mend, to 
spend a few months with us.* 

" ' Not a governess, for the love of Heaven, papa !' exclaimed 
poor I, my fears at that moment totally getting the better of 
my prudence. 

" * No, not a governess. Miss Mannering,' replied the Colonel 
somewhat sternly, 'but a young lady from whose excellent 
example, bred as she has been in the school of adversity, I trust 
you may learn the art to govern yourself.' 

" To answer this was trenching upon too dangerous ground ; 
so there was a pause. 

" ' Is the young lady a Scotch woman, papa V 

" * Yes* — dryly enough. 

" ' Has she much of the accent, sir V 

" ' Much of the devil !* answered my father hastily : ' do you 
think I care about a*s and aa% and ^*s and ee'a 1 — I tell you, 
Julia, I am serious in the matter. You have a genius for friend- 
ship, that is, for running up intimacies which you call such' — 
(was not this very harshly said, Matilda 1) * Now I wish to 
give you an opportunity at least to make one deserving 
friend; and therefore I have resolved that this young lady 
shall be a member of my family for some months, and I expect 
you will pay to her that attention which is due to misfortune 
and virtue.* 

" * Certainly, sir. Is my future friend red-haired V 

*' He gave me one of his stem glances ; you will say, perhaps, 
I deserved it ; but I think the deuce prompts me with teasing 
questions on some occasions. 

" ' She is. as superior to you, my love, in personal appearance, 
as in prudence and aflFection for her friends.* 

" * Lord, papa, do you think that superiority a recommenda- 
tion 1 — ^Well, sir, but I see you are going to take all this too 
seriously : whatever the young lady may be, I am sure, being 
recoromended by you, she shall have no reason to complain 
of my want of attention.* — (After a pause) — ' Has she any 
attendant ] because you know I must provide for her proper 
accommodation if she is without one.* 

" * N — ^no — ^no — ^not properly an attendant — ^the chaplain 
who lived with her father is a very good sort of man, and 1 
believe I shall make room for hiTn in the house.* 

*^ ' Chaplain, papa 9 Lord bless us 1* 



132 WATEKLET NOTBtS. 

" * Yes, Miss Mannering, chaplain ; is there anything very 
new in that word ? Had we not a chaplain at the Residence^ 
when we were in India?' 

" ' Yes, papa, but you were a commandant then. 

" * So I will be now, Miss Mannering, — in my own family at 
least/ 

" * Certainly, sir. But will he read us the Church of Eng- 
land service V . 

« The apparent simplicity with which I asked this question 
got the better of his gravity. ' Come, Julia,' he said, ' you are 
a sad girl, but I gain nothing by scolding you. Of these two 
strangers, the young lady is one whom you cannot fail, I think, 
to love; — ^the person whom, for want of a better term, I called 
chaplain, is a very worthy, and somewhat ridiculous, personage, 
who will never find out you laugh at him, if you don't laugh . 
very loud indeed.' 

" ' Dear papa ! I am delighted with that part of his character. 
But pray, is the house we are going to as pleasantly situated as 
this?' 

"*Not, perhaps, as much to your taste — ^there is no lake 
under the windowSj^ and you will be under the necessity of 
having all your music within doors.' 

" This last coup de main ended the keen encounter of our 
wits ; for you may believe, Matilda, it quelled all my courage 
to reply. 

"Yet my spirits, as perhaps wiU appear too manifest from 
this dialogue, have risen insensibly, and, as it were, in spite of 
myself. Brown alive, and free, and in England ! Embarrass- 
ment and anxiety I can and must endure. We leave this in 
two days for our new residence. I shall not fail to let you know 
what I think of these Scotch inmates, whom I have but too 
much reason to believe my father means to quarter in his house 
as a brace of honourable spies ; a sort of female Rozencrantz and 
reverend Guildenstem, one in tartan petticoats, the other in a 
cassock. What a contrast to the society I would willingly have 
secured to myself I I shall write instantly on my arriving at 
our new place of abode, and acquaint my dearest Matilda with 
the further fates of — her 

" Jflia Mannerino." 



GUY MANKJfiRING. ISS 



CHAPTER NINETEENTtt 

Which sloping hills around enclose, 
Where many a beech and brown oak grows, 
Beneath whose dark and branching bowers, 
Its tides a far-famed river pours, 
By nature's beauties taught to please, 
Sweet Tusculane of rural ease ! — 

Waeton. 

WooDBOUBNE, the habitation which Manneriiig, by Mr. Mao- 
Morlan's mediation, had hired for a season, was a large 
comfortable mansion, snugly situated beneath a hill covered 
with wood, which shrouded the house upon the north and east ; 
the front looked upon a little lawn bordered by a grove of old 
trees ; beyond were some arable fields, extending down to the 
river, which was seen from the windows of the house. A toler- 
able, though old-fashioned garden, a well-stocked dove-cot, and 
the possession of any quantity of ground which the convenience 
of the family might require, rendered the place in every respect 
suitable, as the advertisements have it, ** for the acconmiodation 
of a genteel family.'* 

Here, then, Mannering resolved, for some time at least, to 
set up the staff of his rest. Though an East-Indian, he was not 
partial to an ostentatious display of wealth. In. fact, he was too 
proud a man to be a vain one. He resolved, therefore, to place 
himself upon the footing of a country gentleman of easy for- 
tune, without assuming, or permitting his household to assume, 
any of the faste which then was considered as characteristic of a 
nabob. 

He had still his ^ye upon the purchase of Ellangowan, which 
Mac-Morlan conceived Mr. Glossin would be compelled to part 
with, as some of the creditors disputed his title to retain so large 
a part of the purchase-money in his own hands, and his power 
to pay it was much questioned. In that case Mac-Morlan was 
assured he would readily give up his bargain, if tempted 
with something above the price which he had stipulated to pay. 
It may seem strange that Mannering was so much attached to 
A spot which he had only seen once, and that for a short time 
in early life. But the circumstances which passed there had 






1S4 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

laid a strong hold on his imagination. There seemed to be a 
fate which coigoined the remarkable passages of his own family 
history with those of the inhabitants of Ellangowan, and he 
felt a mysterious desire to call the terrace his own, from which 
he had read in the book of heaven a fortune strangely accom- 
plished in the person of the infant heir of that family, and 
corresponding so closely with one which had been .strikingly 
fulfilled in his own. Besides, when once this thought had got 
possession of his imagination, he could cot without great re- 
luctance brook the idea of his plan being defeated, and by a 
fellow like Glossin. So pride came to the aid of fancy, and 
both combined to fortify his resolution to buy the estate if 
possible. 

Let us do Mannering justice. A desire to serve the distressed 
had also its share in determining him. He had considered the 
advantage which Julia might receive from the company of Lucy 
Bertram, whose genuine prudence and good sense could so surely 
be relied upon. This idea had become much stronger since 
Mac-Morlan had confided to him, under the solemn seal of 
secrecy, the whole of her conduct towards young Hadewood. 
To propose to her to become an inmate in his family, if distant 
from the scenes of her youth and the few whom she called friends, 
would have been less delicate ; but at Woodboume she might 
without difficulty be induced to become the visitor of a season, 
without <being depressed into the situation of an humble com- 
panion. Lucy .Bertram, with some hesitation, accepted the 
invitation to reside a few weeks with Miss Mannering. She 
felt too well, that, however the Colonel's delicacy might disguise 
the truth, his principal motive was a generous desire to afford 
her his countenance and protection, which his high connections, 
and higher character, were likely to render influential in the 
neighbourhood. 

About the same time the orphan girl received a letter from 
Mrs. Bertram, the relation to whom she had written, as cold 
and comfortless as could well be imagined. It enclosed, indeed, 
a small sum of money, but strongly recommended economy, and 
that Miss Bertram should board herself in some quiet family, 
either at Kippletringan, or in the neighbourhood, assuring her, 
that though her own income was very scanty, she would not 
see her kinswoman want. Miss Bertram shed some natural 
tears over this cold-hearted epistle.; for in her mother's time, 



GUY BiANNBRING. 135 

-this good lady had beea a guest at Ellangowan for nearly three 
years, and it was only npon succeeding to a property of about 
£400 a-year that ^e had taken ferewell of that hospitable 
mansion, which otherwise might have had the honour of shelter- 
ing her until the death of its owner. Lucy was strongly inclined 
to return the paltry donation, which, after some struggles with 
avarice, pride had extorted from the old lady. But, on con- 
sideration, she contented herself with writing, that she accepted 
it as a loan, which she hoped in a short time to repay, and con- 
sulted her relative upon the invitation she had received from 
Colonel and Miss Maimering. This time the answer came in 
course of post, so feairfiil was Mrs. Bertram that some frivolous 
delicacy, or nonsense, a& she termed it, might induce her cousin 
to reject such a promising offer, and thereby at the same time 
to leave herself still a burden upon her relations. Lucy, there-, 
fore, had no alternative, unless she preferred continuing a burden 
upon the worthy Mac-Morlans, who were too liberal to be rich. 
Those kinsfolk, who formerly requested the favour of her cbm- 
pany, had of late, either silently, or with expressions of resent- 
ment that she should have preferred Mac-Morlan's invitation to 
theirs, gradually withdrawn their notice. 

The fate of Dominie Sampson would have been deplorable 
had it depended upon any one except Mannering, who was an 
admirer of originality; for a separation from Lucy Bertram 
would have certainly broken his heart. Mac-Morlan had given 
a full account of his proceedings towards the daughter of his 
patron. The answer was a request from Mannering to know, 
whether the Dominie still possessed that admirable virtue of 
tacitumiiy by which he was so notably distinguished at Elian- 
go wan. — ^Mac-Morlan replied in the afltoiative. — "Let Mr. 
Sampson know," said the OoloneFs next letter, " that I shall 
want his assistance to catalogue and put in order the library of 
my uncle, the bishop, which I have ordered to be sent down by 
sea. I shall also want him to copy and arrange some papers. 
Fix his salary at what you think befitting. Let the poor man 
be properly dressed, and accompany his young lady to Wood- 
bourne." 

Honest Mac-Morlan received this mandate with great joy, 
but pondered much upon executing that part of it which related 
to newly attiring the worthy Dominie. He lodked at him with 
a scrutinizing eye, and it was but too plain that his present 



136 WAVEfiLEY KOVEL& 

garmenlB were daily waxing more deplorable. To gm him* 
money, and bid him go and furnish himself, would be only 
giving him the means of making himself ridiculous ; for when 
such a rare event arrived to Mr. Sampson as the purchase of 
new garments, thei additions which he made to his wardrobe by 
the guidance of his own taste, usually brought all the boys of 
the village after him for many days. On the other hand, to 
bring a teQor to meaaure him, and send home his clothes as for. 
a schoolboy, would probably give offence. At length Mac-Morlan 
resolved to consult Miss Bertram, and request her interference. 
She assured him, that though she could not pretend to super- 
intend a gentleman's wardrobe, nothing was more easy than to 
arrange the Dominie's. 

" At EUangowan," she said, ^^ whenever my poor father thought 
any part of the Dominie's dress wanted renewal, a servant was 
directed to enter his room by night, for he sleeps as fast as a 
dormouse, carry off the old vestment, and leave the new one ; — - 
nor could any one observe that the Dominie exhibited the least 
consciousness of the change put upon. him on such occasions." 

Mao-Morlan, in conformity with Miss Bertram's advice, pro- 
cured a skilM artist, who, on looking at the Dominie attentively, 
undertook to make for him two suits of clothes, one black, and 
one raven-grey, and even engaged that they should fit him — as 
well at least (so the tailor qualified his enterprise) as a man of 
such an out-of-the-way build could be fitted by merely human 
needles and shears. When this fashioner had accomplished his 
task, and the dresses were brought home, Mac-Morlan, judiciously 
resolving to accomplish his purpose by degrees, withdrew that 
evening an important part of his dress, and substituted the new 
article of rainient in its stead. Perceiving that this passed 
totally without notice, he next ventured on the waistcoat, and 
lastly on the coat. When fully metamorphosed, and arrayed for 
the first time in his life in a decent dress, they did observe that 
the Dominie seemed to have some indistinct and embarrassing 
consciousness that a change had taken place on his outward man,. 
Whenever they observed this dubious expression gather upon his 
countenance, accompanied with a glance, that fixed now upon the 
sleeve of his coat, now upon the knees of his breeches, where he 
probably missed some antique patching and darning, which, being 
executed. with blue thread upon a black ground, had somewhat 
the effect of embroidery, they always took care to turn his atten- 



GUY MANNEiaNO. 137 

tion into some other channel, until his gannents, '' by the aid of 
use, cleaved to their mouldL*' The only remark he was ever 
known to make on the subject was, that the ^' air of a town like 
Kippletringan seemed favourable unto wearing apparel, for he 
thought his coat looked almost as new as the first day he put it 
on, which was when he went to stand trial for his license as a 
preacher." 

When the Dominie first heard the liberal proposal of Colonel 
Mannering, he turned a jealous and doubtful glance towards 
Miss Bertram, as if he suspected that the project involved their 
separation ; but when Mr. Mac-Morlan hastened to explain that 
she would be a guest' at Woodboiune for some time, he rubbed 
his huge hands together, and burst, into a portentous sort of 
chuckle, like that of the AMte in the tale of the Caliph Yathek. 
After this unusual explosion of satisfaction, he remained quite 
passive in all the rest of the transaction. 

It had been settled that Mr. and Mrs. Mac-Morlan should 
take possession of the house a few days before Mannering's ar- 
rival, both to put everything in perfect order, and to make the 
transference of Miss Bertram's residence from their family to his 
as easy and delicate as possible. Accordingly, in the beginning of 
the month of December the party were settled at Woodboume. 



CHAPTER TWENTIETH. 

A gigantic genius, fit to grapple with whole libraries. 

Boswxll's Life of Johnson. 

The appointed day arrived, when the Colonel and Miss Manner- 
ing were expected at Woodboume. The hour was fast approach- 
ing, and the little circle within doors had each their separate 
subjects of anxiety. Mac-Morlan naturally desired to attach to 
himself the patronage and countenance of a person of Mannering's 
wealth and consequence. He was aware, from his knowledge 
of mankind, that Mannering, though generous and benevolent, 
had the foible of expecting and exacting a minute compliance 
with his directions. He was therefore racking his recollection 
to discover if everything had been arranged to meet the ColoneFs 
wishes and instructions, and, under this uncertainty of mind. 



138 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

he traversed the house more than once from the garret to the 
stables. Mrs. Mac-Morlan revolved in a lesser orbit, compre- 
hending the dining parlour, housekeeper's room, and kitchen. 
She was only afraid that the dinner might be spoiled, to the 
discredit of her housewifely accomplishments. Even the usual 
passiveness of the Dominie was so far disturbed, that he twiee 
went to the window, which looked out upon the avenue, and 
twice exclaimed, "Why tarry the wheels of their chariot?" 
Lucy, the most quiet of the expectants, had her own melancholy 
thoughts. She was now about to be consigned to the charge, 
plmost to the benevolence, of strangers, with whose character, 
though hitherto very amiably displayed, she was but imperfectly 
acquainted. The moments, therefore, of suspense, passed 
anxiously and heavily. 

At length the trampling of horses and the sound of wheels 
were heard. The servants, who had already arrived, drew up 
in the hall to receive their master and mistress, with an im- 
portance and empress&mmt^ which> to Lucy, who had never 
been accustomed to society, or witnessed what is called the 
manners of the great, had something alarming. Mac-Morlan 
went to the door to receive the master and mistress of the 
family, and in a few moments they were in the drawing-room. 

Mannering, who had travelled, as usual, on horseback, entered 
with his daughter hanging upon his arm. She was of the middle 
size, or rather less, but formed with much elegance ; piercing 
dark eyes, and jet black hair of great length, corresponded with 
the vivacity and intelligence of features, in which were blended 
a little haughtiness and a little bashfulness, a great deal of 
shrewdness, and some power of humorous sarcasm. " I shall 
not like her," was the result of Lucy Bertram's first glance; 
" and yet I rather think I shall," was the thought excited by 
the second. 

Miss Mannering was fiirred and mantled up to the throat 
against the severity of the weather ; the Colonel in his military 
great-coat. He bowed to Mrs. Mac-Morlan, whom his daughter 
also acknowledged with a fashionable courtesy, not dropped •so 
low as at all to incommode her person. The Colonel then led 
his daughter up to Miss Bertram, and, taking the hand of the 
latter, with an air of great kindness, and almost paternal 
affection, he said, " Julia, this is the young lady whom I hope 
our good friends have prevailed . on to honour our house with 



GUY MANNERING. 139 

a long visit. I shall be much gratified indeed if you can render 
Woodboume as pleasant to Miss Bertram, as EQangowan was 
to me when I first came as a wanderer into this country." 

The young lady courtesied acquiescence, and took her new 
friend's hand. Mannering now turned his eye upon the Dominie, 
who had made bows since his entrance into the room, sprawling 
out his leg*, and bending his back like an automaton, which 
oontinues to repeat the same" movement, until the motion ic 
stopt by the artist. " My good friend, Mr. Sampson," — said 
Mannering, introducing him to his daughter, and darting at 
the same time a reproving glance at the damsel, notwithstanding 
he had himself some disposition to join her too obvious incli- 
nation to risibility. — ** This gentleman, Julia, is to put my books 
in order when they arrive, and I expect to derive great advantage 
from his extensive learning." 

" I am sure we are obliged to the gentleman, papa — ^and, to 
borrow a ministerial mode of giving thanks, I shall never forget 
the extraordinary countenance he has been pleased to show us. 
— But, Miss Bertram," continued she hastily, for her father's 
brows began to darken, " we have travelled a good way, — ^will 
you permit me to retire before dinner?" 

This intimation dispersed all the company, save the Dominie, 
who, having no idea of dressing but when he was to riscj or of 
undressing but when he meant to go to bed, remained by himself, 
chewing the cud of a mathematical demonstration, imtil the 
company again assembled in the drawing-room, and from thence 
adjourned to the dining-parlour. 

When the day was concluded, Mannering took an opportunity 
to hold a minute's conversation with his daughter in private. 

" How do you like your guests, Julia ?" 

" 0, Miss Bertram of all things. — But this is a most original 
parson— why, dear sir, no human being will be able to look at 
him without laughing." 

"While he is under my roof, Julia, every one must learn to 
do so." 

" Lord, papa, the very footmen could not keep their gravity !" 

" Then let them strip off my livery," said the Colonel, " and 
laugh at their leisure. Mr. Sampson is a man whom I esteem 
for his simplicity and benevolence of character," 

" 0, I am convinced of his generosity too," said this lively 



UO WAVBKLEY NOVELS. 

lady ; '^ he cannot lift a spoonful of soup to his mouth without 
bestowing a share on everything round." 

" Julia, you are incorrigible ; — ^but remember, I expect your 
mirth on this subject to be under such restraint, that it shall 
neither offend this worthy man's feelings nor those of Miss 
Bertram, who may be more apt to feel upon his account than 
he on his own. And so, good night, my dear ; and recollect 
that, though Mr. Sampson has •certainly not sacrificed to the 
graces, there are many things in this world more truly deserving 
of ridicule than either awkwardness of manners or simplicity of 
character.". 

In a day or two Mr. and Mrs. Mac-Morlan left Woodboume, 
after taking an affectionate farewell of their late guest. The 
household were now settled in their new quarters. The young 
ladies followed their studies and amusements together. Colonel 
Mannering was agreeably surprised to find that Miss Bertram 
was well skilled in French and Italian — thanks to the assiduity 
of Dominie Sampson, whose labour had silently made him 
acquainted with most modem as weU as ancient languages. Of 
music she knew little or nothing, but her new friend undertook 
to give her lessons ; in exchange for which^ she was to learn 
from Lucy the habit of walking, and the art of riding, and* the 
courage necessary to defy the season. Mannering was careful 
to substitute for their amusement iii the evening siich books as 
might convey some solid instruction with entertainment, and 
as he read aloud with great skill and taste, the winter nights 
passed pleasantly away. 

Society was quickly formed where there were so many in- 
ducements. Most of the families of the neighbourhood visited 
Colonel Mannering, and he was soon able to select from among 
them such as best suited his taste and habits. Charles Hazle- 
wood held a distinguished place in his favour, and was a frequent 
visitor, not without the consent and approbation of his parents ; 
for there was no knowing, they thought, what assiduous attention 
might produce, and the beautiful Miss Mannering, of high 
family, with an Indian fortune, was a.prize worth looking after. 
Dazzled with such a prospect, they never considered the risk 
which had once been some object of their apprehension, that his 
boyish and inconsiderate fancy might form an attachment to 
the penniless Lucy Bertram, who had nothing on earth to re- 
o(Humend her, but a pretty face, good birth, and a most amiable 



Otnr MAKNERIKO. 141 

disposition. Mannering was more prudent. He considered liim- 
self acting as Miss Bertram's guardian, and while he did not 
think it incumbent upon him altogether to check her intercourse 
with the young gentleman for whom, excepting in wealth, she 
was a match in every respect, he laid it under such insensible 
restraints as might prevent any engagement or Bclai/roiaaemetU 
taking place until the young man should have seen a little more 
of life and of the world, and. have attained that age when he 
might be considered as entitled to judge for himself in the 
matter in which his happiness was chiefly interested. 

While these matters engaged the attention of the other 
members of the Woodboume family. Dominie Sampson was 
occupied, body and soul, in the arrangement of the late bishop's 
library, which had been sent from Liverpool by sea, and conveyed 
by thirty or forty carts from the seaport at which it was landed. 
Sampson's joy at beholding the ponderous contents of these 
chests arranged upon the floor of the large apartment, from 
whence he was to transfer them to the shelves, baffles all 
description. He grinned like an ogre, swung his arms Uke the 
sails of a wind-mill, shouted " Prodigious" till the roof rung to 
his raptures. " He had never," he said, " seen so many books 
together, except in the College Library ;" and now his dignity 
and delight in being superintendent of the collection, raised 
him, in his own opinion, almost to the rank of the academical 
librarian, whom he had always regarded as the greatest and 
happiest man on earth. Neither were his transports diminished 
upon a hasty examination of the contents of these volumes. 
-Some, indeed, of belles lettres, poems, plays, or memoirs, he 
tossed indignantly aside, with the implied censure of ** psha," 
or " frivolous ;" but the greater and bulkier part of the collection 
bore a very diflerent character. The deceased prelate, a divine 
of the old and deeply-learned cast, had loaded his shelves with 
volumes which displayed the antique and venerable attributes 
80 happily described by a modem poet : 

That weight t>f wood, with leathern coat o'erlaid. 
Those ample clasps of solid metal made, 
The close-pressed leaves uuoped for many an age, 
The didl red-edging of the well-filled page. 
On the broad back the stubborn ridges rolled, 

Where yet the title stands in tarnished gold. 

» 

Books of theology and controversial divinity, commentAries, 



U2 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

and polyglots, sets of the fathers, and sermons, which might 
each furnish forth ten brief discom^ses of modem date, books of 
science, ancient and modem, classical authors in their best and 
rarest forms ; such formed the late bishop's venerable library, 
and over such the eye of Dominie Sampson gloated with rapture. 
He entered them in the catalogue in his best running hand, 
forming each letter with the accuracy of a lover writing a 
valentine, and placed each individually on the destined shelf 
with all the reverence which I have seen a lady pay to a jar of 
old china. With all this zeal his labours advanced slowly. He 
often opened a volume when half-way up the library-steps, feU 
upon some interesting passage, and, without shifting his incon- 
venient posture, continued immersed in the fascinating perusal 
until the servant pulled *him by the skirts to assure him that 
dinner waited. He then repaired to the parlour, bolted his food 
down his capacious throat in squares of three inches, answered 
ay or no at random to whatever question was asked at him, 
and again hurried back to- the Hbrary as soon as his napkin was 
removed, and sometimes with it hanging roimd his neck like a 
pinafore-^ 

How happily the days 
Of Thalaba went by ! 

And, having thus left the principal characters of our tale in 
a situation which, being sufficiently comfortable to themselves, 
is of course utterly uninteresting to the reader, we take up the 
history of a person who has as yet only been named, and' who 
has all the interest that uncertainty and misfortune can give. 



CHAPTER TWENTY-FIRST. 

What say'st thou, Wise-One 1 — ^that all powerful Love 
Can fortune's strong impediments remote ; 
Nor is it strange that worth should wed to worth. 
The pride of genius with the pride of birth. — Crabbe. 

V. Bbown — ^I will not give at fiill length -his thrice unhappy 
name— had been from infancy a ball for fortune to spurn at ; 
but nature had given him that elasticity of mind which rises 



GUY MANNERING. 143 

higher from the rebound. His form was tall, manly, and active, 
and his features corresponded with his person; for, although 
far from regular, they had an expression of intelligence and 
good humour, and when he spoke, or was particularly animated, 
might be decidedly pronounced interesting. His manner indi- 
cated the military profession, which had been his choice, and in 
which he had now attained the rank of Captain, the person who 
succeeded Colonel Maonering in his command having laboured 
to repair the injustice which Brown had sustained by that 
gentleman's prejudice against him. But this, as well as his 
liberation from captivity, had taken place after Mannering left 
India. Brown followed at no distant period, his regiment 
being recalled home. His first inquiry was after the family of 
Mannering, and, easHy learning their route northward, he 
followed it, with the purpose of resuming his addresses to Julia. 
With her father he deemed he had no measures to keep ; for, 
ignorant of the more venomous belief which had been instilled 
into the Colonel's mind, he regarded him as an oppressive 
aristocrat, who had used his power as a commanding officer to 
deprive him of the prefennent due to his behaviour, and who 
had forced upon him a personal quarrel, without any better 
reason than his attentions to a pretty young woman, agreeable 
to herself, and permitted and countenanced by her mother. 
He was determined, therefore, to take no rejection unless from 
the yoimg lady herself, believing that the heavy misfortimes of 
his painful wound and imprisoimient were direct injuries received 
from the father, which might dispense with his using much 
ceremony towards him. How far his scheme had succeeded 
when his nocturnal visit was discovered by Mr. Mervyn, our 
readers are already informed. 

Upon this unpleasant occurrence. Captain Brown absented 
himself from the inn in which he had resided under the name 
of Dawson, so that Colonel Mannering's attempts to discover 
and trace him were unavailing. He resolved, however, that no 
difficulties should prevent his continuing his enterprise, while 
Julia left him a ray of hope. The interest he had secured in 
her bosom was such as she had been unable to conceal from him, 
and with aJl the courage of romautic gallantly he detennined 
upon perseverance. But we believe the reader will be as well 
pleased to learn his mode of thiuMng and intentions from his 
own .conmiunication to his special Mend and confidant, Captaiii 



144 WAVEBLEY NOVELS. 

Delaserre, a Swiss gentleman, who had a company fai his 
regiment. 

Extract. 

" Let me hear from you soon, dear Delaserre. — ^Remember, I 
can learn nothing about regimental affiurs but through your 
friendly medium, and I long to know what has become of 
Ayre's court-martial, and whether Elliot gets the majority; 
also how recruiting comes on, and how the young officers like 
the mess. Of our kind friend the Lieutenant-Colonel I need 
ask nothing ; I saw him as I passed through Nottingham, 
happy, in the bosom of his family. What a happiness it is, 
Philip, for us poor devils, that we have a little resting-place 
between the camp and the grave, if we can manage to escape 
disease, and steel, and lead, and the effects of hard living. A 
retired old soldier is always a graceful and respected character. 
He grumbles a little now and then, but then his is licensed 
murmuring. Were a lawyer, or a physician, or a clergyman, 
to breathe a complaint of hard luck or want of preferment, a 
hundred tongues would blame his own incapacity as the cause ; 
but the most stupid veteran that ever faltered out the thrice- 
told tale of a siege and a battle, and a cock and a bottle, is 
listened to with sympathy and reverence, when he shakes ills 
thin locks, and talks with indignation of the boys that are put 
over his head. And you and I, Delaserre, foreigners both — 
for what am I the better that I was originally a Scotchman, 
since, could I prove my descent, the -English would hardly 
acknowledge me a countryman 1 — ^we may boast that we have 
fought out our preferment, and gained that by the sword which 
we had not money to compass otherwise. The English are a 
wise people. While they praise themselves, and affect to under- 
value all other nations, they leave us, luckily, trap-doors and 
back-doors open, by which we strangers, less favoured by nature, 
may arrive at a share of their advantages. And thus they are, 
in some respects, like a boastful landlord, who exalts the value 
and flavour of his six-years'-old mutton, while he is delighted* to 
dispense a shared of it to all the company. In short, you, whose 
proud family, and I, whose hard fate, made us soldiers of 
fortune, have the pleasant recollection, that in the British service, 
stop where we may upon our career. It is only for want of money 
to pay the turnpike, and not frt>m our being prohibited to travel 



GUY MANNERING. 146 

the road. If, therefore, you can persuade little Weischel to 
come into ov/rSy for God's sake let him buy the ensigncy, live 
prudently, mind his duty, and trust to the Fates for promotion. 

" And now, I hope you are expiring with curiosi^ to learn 
the end of my romance. I told you I had deemed it convenient 
to make a few days* tour on foot among the mountains of West- 
moreland with Dudley, a young English artist, with whom I 
have formed some acquamtance. A fine fellow this, you must 
know, Delaserre — ^he paints tolerably, draws beautifully, con- 
verses well, and plays charmingly on the flute ; and though thus 
well entitled to be a coxcomb of talent, is, in fact, a modest, 
unpretending young man. On our return from our little tour, 
I learned that the enemy had been reconnoitring. Mr. Mervyn's 
barge had crossed the lake, I was informed by my landlord, 
with the squire himself and a visitor. 

" * What sort of person, landlord V 

" * Why, he was a dark oflficer-looking mon, at they called 
Colonel — Squoire Mervyn questioned me as dose as I had been 
at sizes — ^I had guess, Mr. Dawson' (I told you that was my 
feigned name) — * But I tould him nought of your vagaries, and 
going out a-laking in the mere a-noights — not I — an I can 
make no sport, I'se spoil none— and Squoire Mervyn's as cross 
as poy-crust too, mon — ^he's aye maundering an my guests but 
land beneath his house, though it be marked for the fourth 
station in the Survey. Koa, noa, e'en let un smeU things out 
o' themselves for Joe Hodges.* 

"You will allow there was nothing for it after this but 
paying honest Joe Hodges' bill and departing, unless I had 
preferred making him my confidant, for which I felt in no way 
inclined. Besides, I learned that our drdevcmt Colonel was 
on fuU retreat for Scotland, carrying off poor Julia along with 
him. I understand from those who conduct the heavy bag- 
gage, that he takes his winter-quarters at a place called Wood- 

boume, in shire in Scotland. He will be all on the alert 

just now, so I must let him enter his entrenchments without 
any new alarm. And then, my good Colonel, to whom I owe 
60 many grateful thanks, pray look to your defence. 

" I protest to you, Delaserre, I often think there is a little 
contradiction enters into the ardour of my pursuit. I think I 
would rather bring this haughty, insulting man to the necessity 
of calling his daughter Mrs. Brown, than I would wed her with 

VOL. IL L 



146 WAVXBLEY NOVELS. 

his full consent, and with the king's pennifision to change my 
name for the style and arms of Mannering, though his whole 
fortune went witii them. There is only one circumstance that 
chills me a little — Julia is young and romantic I would not 
willingly hurry her into a step which her riper years might dis- 
approve. — No ; — ^nor would I like to have her upbraid me, were 
it but with a glance of her eye, with having ruined her fortunes 
— ^far less give her reason to say, as some have not been slow to 
tell their lords, that, had I 1^ her time for consideration, she 
would have been wiser and done better. No, Delaserre — ^this 
must not be. The picture presses close upon me, because I am 
aware a giri in Julia's situation has no distinct and precise idea 
of the value of the sacrifice she makes. She knows difficulties 
only by name ; and if she thinks of love and a farm, it is a 
ferme om^e, such as is only to be found in poetic description, 
or in the park of a gentleman of twelve thousand a-year. She 
would be ill prepared for the privations of that real Swiss cot- 
tage we have so often talked of, and for the difficulties which 
must necessarily surround us even before we attained that 
haven. This must be a point clearly ascertained. Although 
Julia's beauty and playful tenderness have made an impression 
on my heart never to be erased, I must be satisfied that she 
perfectly imderstands the advantages she foregoes before she 
sacrifices them for my sake. 

''Am I too proud, Delaserre, when I trust that even this 
trial may terminate favourably to my wishes ? — ^Am I too vain 
when I suppose, that the few personal qualities which I pos- 
sess, with means of competence, however moderate, and the 
determination of consecrating my life to her happiness, may 
make amends for all I must call upon her to forego ? Or will a 
difference of dress, of attendance, of style, as it is called, of the 
power of shifting at pleasure the scenes in which she seeks 
amusement, — ^will these outweigh, in her estimation, the pros- 
pect of domestic happiness, and the interchange of unabating 
affection ? I say nothing of her father ; — his good and evil 
qualities are so strangely mingled, that the former are neutra- 
lised by the latter ; and that which she must regret as a 
daughter is so much blended with what she would gladly escape 
from, that I place the separation of the father and child as a 
circumstance which weighs little in her remarkable case. Mean- 
time I keep up my spirits as I may. I have inciured too many 



GUY MANNERING. 147 

hardships and diffictdties to be presumptuouB or confident in 
success, and I have been too often and too wonderfully extricated 
&om them to be despondent. 

" I wish you saw this country. I think the scenery would 
delight you. At least it often brings to my recollection your 
glowing descriptions of your native country. To me it has in 
a great measure the charm of novelty. Of the Scottish hills, 
though bom among them, as I have always been assured, I have 
but an indistinct recollection. Indeed, my memory rather 
dwells upon the blank which my youthful mind experienced in 
gazing on the levels of the isle of Zealand, than on anything 
which preceded that feeling; but I am confident, from that 
sensation, as well as from the recollections which preceded it, 
that hills and rocks have been familiar to me at an early period, 
and that though now only remembered by contrast, and by the 
blank which I felt while gazing around for them in vain, they 
must have made an indelible impression on my infant imagi- 
nation. I remember, when we &Bt mounted that celebrated 
pass in the Mysore country, while most of the others felt only 
awe and astonishment at the height and grandeur of the sceneiy, 
I rather shared your feelings and those of Cameron, whose 
admiration of such wild rocks was blended with familiar love, 
derived from early association. Despite my Dutch education, 
a blue hill to me is as a friend, and a roaring torrent like the 
sound of a domestic song that hath soothed my infancy. I 
never felt the impulse so strongly as in this land of lakes and 
mountains, and nothing grieves me so much as that duty pre- 
vents your being with me in my numerous excursions among 
its recesses. Some drawings I have attempted, but I succeed 
vilely. — ^Dudley, on the contrary, draws delightfully, with that 
rapid touch which seems like magic, while I labour and botch, 
and make this too heavy, and that too light, and produce at last 
a base caricature. I must stick to the flageolet, for music is the 
only one of the fine arts which deigns to acknowledge me. 

^' Did you know that Colonel Mannering was a draughtsman) 
— ^I believe not, for he scorned to display his accomplishments 
to the view of a subaltern. He draws beautiftdly, however. 
Since he and Julia left Mervyn-hall, Dudley was sent for there. 
The squire, it seems, wanted a set of drawings made up, of 
which Mannering had done the first four, but was interrupted, 
by his hasty departure, in his purpose of completing them. 



148 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

Dudley says he has seldom seen anythmg so masterly, though 
slight ; and each had attached to it a short poetical description. 
Is Saul, you will say, among the prophets ? — Colonel Mannering 
write poetry ! — ^Why, surely this man must have taken all the 
pains to conceal his accomplishments, that others do to display 
theirs. How reserved and unsociable he appeared among us ! — 
how little disposed to enter into any conversation which could 
become genersdly interesting I — And then his attachment to 
that unworthy Archer, so much below him in every respect ; 
and all this, because he was the brother of Viscount Archetfield, 
a poor Scottish peer ! I think, if Archer had long survived the 
wounds in the affair of Cuddyboram, he would have told some- 
thing that might have thrown light upon the inconsistencies of 
this singular man's character. He repeated to me more than 
once, * I have that to say, which will alter your hard opinion of 
our late Colonel.' But death pressed him too hard; and if he 
owed me any atonement, which some of his expressions seemed 
to imply, he died before it could be made. 

" I propose to make a further excursion through this country 
while this fine frosty weather serves, and Dudley, almost as 
good a walker as myself, goes with me for some part of the way. 
We part on the borders of Cumberland, when he must return 
to his lodgings in Marybone, up three pair of stairs, and labour 
at what he calls the commercial part of his profession. There 
cannot, he says, be such a difference betwixt any two portions 
of existence aa between that in which the artist, if an enthusiast, 
collects the subjects of his drawings, and that which must 
necessarily be dedicated to turning over his portfolio, and 
exhibiting them to the provoking indifference, or more provoking 
criticism, of fashionable amateurs. * During the summer of my 
year,* says Dudley, * I am as free as a wild Indian, enjoying 
myself at liberty amid the grandest scenes of nature ; while, 
during my winters and springs, I am not only cabined, cribbed, 
and confined in a miserable garret, but condemned to sa intoler- 
able subservience to the humour of others, and to as indifferent 
company, as if I were a literal galley-slave.' I have promised 
him your acquaintance, Delaserre ; — ^you wiQ be delighted with 
his specimens of art, and he with your Swiss fanaticism for 
mountains and torrents. 

" When I lose Dudley's company, I am informed that I can 
easily enter Scotland, by stretching across a wild countiy in the 



GUY MANNERING. 149 

upper part of Gumberland ; and that route I shall follow, to 
give the Colonel time to pitch his camp ere I reconnoitre his 
position. — Adieu! Delaserre — I shall hardly find another 
opportunity of writing till I reach Scotland." 



CHAPTER TWENTY-SECOND. 

Jog on, jog on, the footpath way, 

And merrily bend the stile-a ; 
A merry heart goes all the day, 

A sad one tires in a mile-a. 

Wintkr's Tale. 

Let the reader conceive to himself a clear frosty November 
morning, the scene an open heath, having for the back-ground 
that huge chain of mountains in which Skiddaw and Saddleback 
are pre-eminent ; let him look along that hlmd road, by which 
I mean the track so slightly marked by the passengers' footsteps, 
that it can but be traced by a slight shade of verdure from the 
darker heath around it, and, being only visible to the eye when 
at some distance, ceases to be distinguished while the foot is 
actually treading it : along this faintly-traced path advances the 
object of our present narrative. His firm step, his erect and 
free carriage, have a military air, which corresponds weU with 
his weU-proportioned limbs, and stature of six feet high. His 
dress is^o plain and simple, that it indicates nothing as to rank : 
it may be that of a gentleman who travels in this manner for 
his pleasure — or of an inferior person, of whom it is the proper 
and usual garb. Nothing can be on a more reduced scale than 
his travelling equipment. A volume of Shakspeare in each 
pocket, a small bundle with a change of linen slung across his 
shoulders, an oaken cudgel in his hand, complete our pedes- 
trian'8 accommodationa ; aad in this equipage we present him 
to our readers. 

Brown had parted that morning from his friend Dudley, and 
began his solitary walk towards Scotland. 

The first two or three miles were rather melancholy, from 
want of the society to which he had of late been accustomed. 
But this unusual mood of mind soon gave way to the influence 
of his natural good spirits, excited by the exercise and the 



150 WAVERLET NOVELS. 

bradng effects of the froety air. He whistled as he went along, 
— not "from want of thought," but to give vent to those buoyant 
feelings which he had no other mode of expressing. For each 
peasant whom he chanced to meet, he had a kind greeting or a 
good-humoured jest: the hardy Cumbrians grinned as they 
passed, and said, "That's a khid heart, €rod bless un!" and 
the market-girl looked more than once over her shoulder at the 
athletic form, which corresponded so well with the frank and 
blithe address of the stranger. A rough terrier dog, his constant 
companion, who rivalled his master in glee, scampered at large 
in a thousand wheels round the heath, and came back to jump 
up on him, and assure him that he pslrticipated in the pleasure 
of the journey. Dr. Johnson thought life had few things better 
than the excitation produced by being whirled rapidly along in 
a post-chaise ; but he who has in youth experienced the confident 
and independent feeling of a stout pedestrian in an interesting 
country, and during fine weather, will hold the taste of the great 
moralist cheap in comparison. 

Part of Brown's view in choosing that unusual tract which 
leads through the eastern wilds of Cumberland into Scotland, 
had been a desire to view the remains of the celebrated Boman 
Wall, which are more visible in that direction than in any other 
part of its extent. His education had been imperfect and 
desultory ; but neither the busy scenes in which he had been 
engaged, nor the pleasures of youth, nor the precarious state of 
his own circiunstances, had diverted him from the task of mental 
improvement. — " And this, then, is the Boman Wall," he said, 
scrambling up to a height which commanded the course of that 
celebrated work of antiquity : " What a people ! whose labours, 
even at this extremity of their empire, comprehended such 
space, and were executed upon a scale of such grandeur ! In 
fdture ages, when the science of war shall have changed, how 
few traces will exist of the labours of Yauban and Coehom, 
while this wonderfiil people's remains will even then continue 
to interest and astonish posterity ! Their fortifications, their 
aqueducts, their theatres, their fountains, all their public works, 
bear the grave, solid, and migestic character of their language ; 
while our modem labours, like our modem tongues, seem but 
oonstmcted out of their fragments." Having thus moralized, 
he remembered that he was hungry, and pursued his walk to a 
small public-house at which he proposed to get some refireshment 



GUY MANNERING. 151 

The alehouse, for it was no better, waa situated in the bottom 
of a little dell, through which trilled a small rivulet. It was 
shaded by a large ash tree, against which the day-built shed, 
that senred the purpose of a stable, was erected, and upon which 
it seemed partly to recline. In this shed stood a saddled horse, 
employed in eating his com. The cottages in this part of 
Cumberland partake of the rudeness which characterises those 
of Scotland. — ^The outside of the house promised little for the 
interior, notwithstanding the vaunt of a sign, where a tankard 
of ale voluntarily decanted itself into a tumbler, and a hiero- 
glyphical scrawl below attempted to express a promise of " good 
entertainment for man and horse." Brown was no fastidious 
traveller — ^he stopped and entered the cabaret.* 

The first object which caught his eye in the kitchen, was a 
tall, stout, country-looking man, in a large jockey great-coat, 
the owner of the horse which stood in the shed, who was busy 
discussing huge slices of cold boiled beef, and casting firom time 
to time an eye through the window, to see how his steed sped 
with his provender. A large tankard of ale flanked his plate 
of victuals, to which he applied himself by intervals. The good 
woman of the house was employed in baking. The fire, as is 
usual in that countiy, was on a stone hearth, in the midst of 
an immensely large chimney, which had two seats extended 
beneath the vent. On one of these sat a remarkably tall woman, 
in a red cloak and slouched bonnet, having the appearance of a 
tinker or beggar. She was busily engaged with a short black 
tobacco-pipe. 

At the request of Brown for some food, the landlady wiped 
with her mealy apron one comer of the deal table, placed a 
wooden trencher and knife and fork before the traveller, pointed 
to the round of beef, recommended Mr. Dinmont's good example, 
and finally filled a brown pitcher with her home-brewed. Brown 
lost no time in doing ample credit to both. For a while, his 
opposite neighbour and he were too busy to take much notice 
of each other, except by a good-humoured nod as each in turn 
raised the tankard to his head. At length, when our pedestrian 
began to supply the wants of little Wasp, the Scotch store- 
farmer, for such was Mr. Dinmont, found himself at leisure to 
enter into conversation. 

* Note B. Mump's Ha'. 



162 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

" A bonny terrier that, sir — and a fell chield at the vermin, I 
warrant him — ^that is, if he's been weel entered, for it a' lies in 
that." 

''Really, sir," said Brown, ''his education has been some- 
what neglected, and his chief property is being a pleasant 
companion." 

"Ay sir 1— that's a pity, begging your pardon— it's a great 
pity that — ^beast^or body, education should aye be minded. I 
have six terriers at hame, forbye twa couple of slow-hunds, j&ve 
grews, and a wheen other dogs. There's auld Pepper and auld 
Mustard, and young Pepper and young Mustard, and little 
Pepper and little Mustard ; I had them a' regularly entered, 
first wi* rottens — ^then wi' stoats or weasels — and then wi' the 
tods and brocks — and now they fear naething that ever cam wi' 
a hairy skin on't." 

" I have no doubt, sir, they are thorough-bred — but, to have 
80 many dogs, you seem to have a very limited variety of names 
for them 1" 

" 0, that's a fancy of my ain to mark the breed, sir — The 
Deuke himsell has sent as £sbr as Charlies-hope to get ane o' 
Dandie Dinmont's Pepper and Mustard terriers— Lord, man, he 
sent Tam Hudson* the keeper, and sicken a day as we had wi' 
the fumarts and the tods, and sicken a blythe gaedown as we 
had again e'en ! Faith, that was a night !" 

" I suppose game is very plenty with you !" 

" Plenty, man . — ^I believe there's mair hares than sheep on 
my farm ; and for the moor-fowl, or the grey-fowl, they lie as 
thick as does in a dooket. — ^Did ye ever shoot a black-cock, 
man?" 

" Really I had never even the pleasure to see one, except in 
the museum at Keswick." 

" There now — ^I could guess that by your Southland tongue. 
It's very odd of these English folk that come here, how few of 
them has seen a black-cock ! I'll tell you what — ^ye seem to be 
an honest lad, and if you'll call on me — on Dandie Dinmont — 
at Charlies-hope — ye shall see a black-cock, and shoot a black- 
cock, and eat a black-cock too, man." 

" Why, the proof of the matter is the eating, to be sure, sir ; 
and I shall be happy, if I can find time, to accept your invita- 
tion." 

* The real name of this veteran sportsman is now restored. 



GUT MANNEBING. 153 

''Time, man? what ails ye to gae hame wi' me the nowl 
How d'ye travel?" 

" On foot, GOT ; and if that handsome pony be yours, I should 
find it impossible to keep up with you." 

'' No, unless ye can walk up to fourteen mile an hour. But 
ye can come ower the night as far as Riccarton, where there is 
a public — or if ye like to stop at Jockey Grieve's at the Heuch, 
they would be blythe to see ye, and I am just gaun to stop and 
diink a dram at the door wi' him, and I would tell him you're 
coming up ; — or stay — Gudewife, could ye lend this gentleman 
the gudeman's galloway, and I'll send it ower the Waste in the 
morning wi' the callant )" 

The galloway was turned out upon the fell, and was swear to 
catch. — " Aweel, aweel, there's nae help for't, but come up the 
mom at ony rate. — ^And now, gudewife, I maun ride, to get to 
the Liddel or it be dark, for your Waste has but a kittle character, 
ye ken yourseli" 

" Hout fie, Mr. Dinmont, that's no like you, to gie the country 
an ill name. — I wot, there has been nane stirred in the Waste 
since Sawney Culloch, the travelling-merchant, that Rowley 
Overdoes and Jock Penny suffered for at Carlisle twa years 
since. There's no ane in Bewcaatle would do the like o' that 
now — ^we be a' true folk now." 

" Ay, Tib, that will be when the deil's blind, — ^and his een's 
no sair yet. But hear ye, gudewife, I have been through maist 
feck o' Galloway and Dumfries-shire, and I have been round 
by Carlisle, and I was at the Staneshiebank fair the day, and I 
would like ill to be rubbit sae near hame — so I'll take the 
gate." 

''Hae ye been in Dum&ies and Gralloway?" said the old 
dame, who sate smoking by the fire-side, and who had not yet 
spoken a word. 

" Troth have I, gudewife, and a weary round I've had o't." 

" Then ye'll maybe ken a place they ca' Ellangowan V* 

"Ellangowan, tibat waa Mr. Bertram's? — I ken the place 
weel eneugh: The Laird died about a fortnight since, as I 
heard." 

"Died!" — said the old woman, dropping her pipe, and 
rising and coming forward upon the floor — " died ! — ^are you 
sure of that?" 

*^ Troth am I," said Dinmont, " for it made nae sma' noise in 



n 



154 WAVERLST NOVEL& 

the ooimtryHside. He died just at the roup of the stockiiig and 
furniture ; it stoppit the roup, and mony folk were disappointed. 
They said he was the last of an auld HBonily too, and mony were 
sorry — ^for gude blude's scarcer in Scotland than it has been." 

'^ Dead !" replied the old wom^n, whom our readers have 
abready recognised as their acquaintance, Meg Merrilies — 
** dead ! that quits a' scores. And did ye say he died without 
an heir r 

'^ Ay did he, gudewife, and the estate's seU'd by the same 
token j for they said, they couldna have sell'd it, if there had 
been an heir-male." 

^^Sell'd!" echoed the gipsy, with something like a scream; 
^'and wha durst buy EUangowan that was not of Bertram's 
bludel — and wha could teU whether the bony knave-baini may 
not come back to claim his ain 1 — wha durst buy the estate and 
the castle of EUangowan ?" 

*^ Troth, gudewife, just ane o' thae writer chields that buys a' 
thing — they ca' him Glossin, I think." 

" Glossin ! — Gibbie Glossin ! — ^that I have carried in my 
creels a hundred times, for his mother wasna muckle better 
than mysell — ^he to presume to buy the barony of EUangowan 1 
— Gude be wi' us — ^it is an awfu' warld ! I wished him iU — ^but 
no sic a downfa' as a' that neither : wae's me ! wae's me to think 
o't 1" — She remained a moment silent, but stiU opposing with 
her hand the farmer's retreat, who, betwixt every question, was 
about to turn his back, but good-humouredly stopped on 
observing the deep interest his answers appeared to excite. 

'^ It wiU be seen and heard of — earth and sea wUl not hold 
their peace langer . — Can ye say if the same man be now the 
Sheriff of the county that has been sae for some years past V* 

" Na, he's got some other berth in Edinburgh, they say — ^but 
gude day, gudewife, I maun ride."— She foUowed him to his 
horse, and, while he drew the girths of his saddle, adjusted the 
walise, and put on the bridle, stiU pUed him with questions 
concerning Mr. Bertram's death, and the fate of his daughter 5 
on which, however, she could obtain little information from the 
honest farmer. 

^^ Did ye ever see a place they ca' Demcleugh, about a mUe 
iirae the Place of EUangowan )" 

" I wot weel have I, gudewife, — a wUd-looking den it is, wi' 



Omr MANKERING. 156 

a whin auld wa's o' sheaUngs yonder. I saw it when I gaed 
ower the ground wi' ane that wanted to take the farm." 

''It was a blyth bit ance!" said Meg, speaking to herself. 
" Did ye notice if there was an auld saugh tree that's maist 
blawn down, but yet its roots are in the earth, and it hangs 
ower the bit bum ? — mony a day hae I wrought my stocking, 
and sat on my sunkie under that saugh. *' 

" Hout, deil's i' the wife, wi' her saughs, and her sunMes, 
and Ellangowans. — Qodsake, woman, let me away; — ^there's 
saxpence t'ye to buy half-a-mutchkin, instead o' clavering about 
thae auld warld stories." 

" Thanks to ye, gudeman — and now ye hae answered a' my 
questions and never speired wherefore I asked them, I'll gie 
you a bit canny advice, and ye mamma speir what for neither. 
Tib Mumps will be out wi' the stirrup-dram in a gliffing ; 
she'll ask ye whether ye gang ower Willie's brae, or through 
Gonscowthart-moss ; — tell her ony ane ye like, but be sure" 
(speaking low and emphatically) "to tak the ane ye d^ma 
tell her." The farm^ laughed and promised, and the gipsy 
retreated. 

" Will you take her advice ?" said Brown, who had been an 
attentive listener to this conversation. 

" That will I no— -the randy quean ! Na, I had far rather 
Tib Mumps kenn'd which way I was gaun than her — though 
Tib's no muckle to lippen to neither, and I would advise ye on 
no account to stay in the house a' night." 

In a moment after, Tib, the landlady, appeared with her 
stirrup-cup, which was taken off. She then, as Meg had 
predicted, iuquired whether he went the hill or the moss road. 
He answered, the latter ; and, having bid Brown good-by, and 
i^ain told him, '' he depended on seeing him at Charlies-hope, 
the mom at latest," he rode off at a roimd pace. 



n 



156 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 



CHAPTER TWENTY-THIRD. 

Gallows and knock are too powerful on the highiK'ay. 

Winter's Tau^ 

The hint of the hospitable farmer was not lost on Brown. 
But, while he paid his reckoning, he could not avoid repeatedly 
fixing his eyes on Meg Merrilies. She was, in all respects, the 
same witch-like figure as when we first introduced her at 
Ellangowan-Place. Time had grizzled her raven locks, and 
added wrinkles to her wild features, but her height remained 
erect, and her activity was unimpaired. It was remarked of 
this woman, as of others of the same description, that a life of 
action, though not of labour, gave her the perfect conunand 
of her limbs and figure, so that the attitudes into which 
she most naturally threw herself, were free, unconstrained, and 
picturesque. At present, she stood by the window of the 
cottage, her person drawn up so as to show to full advantage 
her masculine stature, and her head somewhat thrown back, 
that the large bonnet, with which her face was shrouded, 
might not interrupt her steady gaze at Brown. At every 
gesture he made, and every tone he uttered, she seemed to give 
an almost imperceptible start. On his part, he was surprised 
to find that he could not look upon this singular figure without 
some emotion. '' Have I dreamed of such a figure ?" he said 
to himself, "or does this wild and singular-looking woman 
recall to my recollection some of the strauge figures I have seen 
in our Indian pagodas ?" 

WhHe he embarrassed himself with these discussions, and 
the hostess was engaged in rummaging out silver in change of 
half-a-guinea, the gipsy suddenly made two strides, and seized 
Brown's hand. He expected, of course, a display of her skill 
in palmistry, but she seemed agitated by other feelings. 

" Tell me," she said, " tell me, in the name of God, young 
man, what is your name, and whence you came V' 

"My name is Brown, mother, and I come from the East 
Indies." 

"From the East Indies!" dropping his hand with a sigh: 
" it cannot be, then — I am such- an auld fool, that everything 



GUY MANNERING. 167 

I look on seems the thing I want maist to see. But the East 
Indies ! that cannot be. — Weel, be what ye will, ye hae a face 
and a tongue that puts me in mind of auld times. Gk>od-day — 
make haste on your road, and if ye see ony of our folk, meddle 
not and make not, and they'll do you nae hann." 

Brown, who had by this time received his change, put a 
RhillJTig into her hand, bade his hostess farewell, and taking 
the route which the farmer had gone before, walked briskly on, 
with the advantage of being guided by the firesh hoof-prints of 
his horse. Meg Merrilies looked after him for some time, and 
then muttered to herself, '' I maun see that lad again — ^and I 
maim gang back to Ellangowan too. The Laird's dead — 
Awed, death pays a' scores — ^he was a kind man ance. — ^The 
Sheriff's flitted, and I can keep canny in the bush — so there's 
no muckle hazard o' scouring the cramp-ring.* — ^I would like 
to see bonny Ellangowan again or I die." 

Brown, meanwhile, proceeded northward at a round pace 
along the moorish tract called the Waste of Cumberland. He 
passed a solitary house, towards which the horseman who 
preceded him had apparently turned up, for his horse's tread 
was evident in that direction. A little farther, he seemed 
to have returned again into the road. Mr. Dinmont had 
probably made a visit there either of business or pleasure. — I 
wish, thought Brown, the good farmer had staid till I came 
up ; I should not have been sorry to ask him a few questions 
about the road, which seems to grow wilder and wilder. 

In truth, nature, as if she had designed this tract of country 
to be the barrier between two hostile nations, has stamped upon 
it a character of wildness and desolation. The hills axe neither 
high nor rocky, but the land is all heath and morass; the 
huts poor and mean, and at a great distance from each other. 
Immediately around them there is generally some little attempt 
at cultivation ; but a half-bred foal or two, straggling about 
with shackles on their hind legs, to save the trouble of 
enclosures, intimate the farmer's chief resource to be the 
breeding of horses. The people, too, are of a ruder and more 
inhospitable class than elsewhere to be found in Cumberland, 
arising partly from their own habits, partly from their inter- 
mixture with vagrants and criminals, who make this wild 

* To scour the crainx>-rmg, is said metaphorically for being thrown intc 
fettei-8, or, generaDy, into prisosu 



158 WAVEKLBY NOVELS. 

country a refuge from justice. So much were the men of these 
districts in early times the objects of suspicion and dislike to 
their more polished neighbours, that there was, and perhaps 
stOl exists, a by-law of the corporation of Newcastle, prohibiting 
any freeman of that city to take for apprentice a native of certain 
of these dales. It is pithily said, '^ Give a dog an ill name and 
hang him /' and it may be added, if you give a man, or race 
of men, an ill name, they are very likely to do something that 
deserves hanging. Of iMs Brown had heard something, and 
suspected more, from the discourse between the landlady, 
Binmont, and the gipsy; but he was naturally of a fearless 
disposition, had nothing about him that could tempt the 
spoiler, and trusted to get through the Waste with day-light. 
In this last particular, however, he was likely to be disap- 
pointed. The way proved longer than he had anticipated, and 
the horizon began to grow gloomy, just as he entered upon an 
extensive morass. 

Choosing his steps with care and deliberation, the young 
officer proceeded along a path that sometimes sunk between 
two broken black banks of moss earth, sometimes crossed narrow 
but deep ravines fdled with a consistence between mud and 
water, and sometimes along heaps of gravel and stones, which 
had been swept together when some torrent or water-spout 
from the neighbouring hills overflowed the marshy ground 
below. He began to ponder how a horseman could make his 
way through such broken ground ; the traces of hoofe, however, 
were still visible; he even thought he heard their sound at 
some distance, and, convinced that Mr. Dinmont's progress 
through the morass must be still slower than his own, he 
resolved to push on, in hopes to overtake him, and have the 
benefit of his knowledge of the country. At this moment his 
Uttle terrier sprung forward, barking most furiously. 

Brown quickened his pace, and, attaining the smnmit of a 
small rising ground, saw the subject of the dog's alarm. In a 
hollow, about a gunshot below him, a man, whom he easily 
recognised to be Dinmont, was engaged with two others in a 
desperate struggle. He was dismoimted, and defending himself 
as he best could with the butt of his heavy whip. Our traveller 
hastened on to his assistance ; but, ere he could get up, a stroke 
had levelled the farmer with the earth, and one of the robbers, 
improving his victory, struck him some merciless blows on the 



GUY MAls^NEBING. 159 

head. The other villam hastening to meet Brown, called to 
his companion to come along, '^for that one's content^** — 
meaning, probably, past resistance or complaint. One ruiO&an 
was armed with a cutlass, the other with a bludgeon ; but as 
the road was pretty narrow, " bar fire-arms,'^ thought Brown^ 
"and I may manage them well enough." — ^They met accord- 
ingly, with the most murderous threats on the parts of the 
ruffians. They soon found, however, that thfeir new opponent 
was equally stout and resolute ; and, after exchanging two or 
three blows, one of them told him to "follow his nose over 
the heath, in the devil's name, for they had nothing to say to 
him." 

Brown rejected this composition, as leaving to their mercy 
the unfortunate man whom they were about to pillage, if not 
to murder outright ; and the skirmish had just recommenced, 
when Dinmont unexpectedly recovered his senses, his feet, and 
his weapon, and hasted to the scene of action. As he had been 
no easy antagonist, even when surprised and alone, the villains 
did not choose to wait his joining forces with a man who had 
singly proved a match for them both, but fled across the bog as 
fast as their feet could carry them, pursued by Wasp, who had 
acted gloriously during the skirmish, ajmoying the heels of the 
enemy, and repeatedly effecting a moment's diversion in his 
master's favour. 

" Deil, but your dog's weel entered wi' the vermin now, sir !" 
were the first words uttered by the jolly fanner, as he came up, 
his head streaming with blood, and recognised his deliverer and 
his little attendant. 

" I hope, sir, you are not hurt dangerously )" 

" 0, deil a bit — ^my head can stand a gay clour — ^nae thanks 
to them, though, and mony to you. But now, hinney, ye maun 
help me to catch the beast,- and ye maun get on behind me, for 
we maun off like whittrets before the whole claigam£ray be 
doun upon us — the rest o' them will no be far off." The 
galloway was, by good fortune, easily caught, and Brown made 
some apology for overloading the anitnaL 

"Deil a fear, man," answered the proprietor; "Dumple 
could carry six folk if his back was lang eneugh. But Gkxl's 
sake, haste ye, get on, for I see some folk coming through the 
slack yonder, that it may be just as weel no to wait for." 

Brown was of opinion that this apparition of five or six men, 



160 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

with whom the other -vnllains seemed to join company, coming 
across the moss towards them, should abridge ceremony; he 
therefore moimted Dumple en croupe^ and the little spirited 
nag cantered away with two men of great size and strength, as 
if they had been children of six years old. The rider, to whom 
the paths of these wilds seemed intimately known, pushed on 
at a rapid pace, managing, with much dexterity, to choose the 
safest route, in which he was aided by the sagacity of the 
galloway, who never failed to take the difficult passes exactly 
at the particular spot, and in the special manner, by which they 
could be most safely crossed. Yet, even with these advantages, 
the road was so broken, and they were so often thrown out of 
the direct course by various impediments, that they did not 
gain much upon their pursuers. "Never mind," said the 
undaunted Scotchman to his companion, " if ye were ance by 
Withershin's Latch, the road's no near sae saft^ and we'll show 
them fair play for't." 

They soon came to the place he named, a narrow chamiel, 
through which soaked, rather than flowed, a small stagnant 
stream, mantled over with bright green mosses. Dinmont 
directed his steed towards a pass where the water appeared to 
flow with more freedom over a harder bottom; but Dumple 
backed from the proposed crossing-place, put his head down as 
if to reconnoitre the swamp more nearly, stretching forward his 
fore-feet, and stood as fast as if he had been cut out of stone. 

" Had we not better," said Brown, " dismount and leave him 
to his fate ? — or can you not urge him through the swamp 1" 

"Na, na," said his pUot, "we maun cross Dumple at no 
rate — ^he has mair sense than mony a Christian." So saying, 
he relaxed the reins, and shook them loosely. " Gome now, lad, 
take your ain way o't — diet's see where ye'll take us through." 

Dumple, left to the freedom of his own wHl, trotted briskly 
to another part of the latch, less promising, as Brown thought, 
in appearance, but which the animal's sagacity or experience 
recommended as the safer of the two, and where, plunging in, 
he attained the other side with little difficulty. 

"I'm glad we're out o' that moss," said Dinmont, "where 
there's mair stables for horses than change-houses for men — ^we 
have the Maiderirway to help us now, at ony rate." Accord- 
ingly, they speedily gained a sort of rugged causeway, so called, 
being the remains of an old Roman road, which traverses these 



GOY MAKNERING. 161 

wild regions in a due northerly direction. Here they got on at 
the rate of nine or ten miles an hour, Dumple seeking no other 
respite than what arose from changing his pace from canter to 
trot. " I could gar him show mair action," said his master, 
" but we are twa lang-legged chields after a', and it would be a 
pity to distress Dumple — ^there wasna the like o' him at Stanes* 
hiebank fair the day." 

Brown readily assented to the propriety of sparing the horse, 
and added, that, as they were now far out of the reach of the 
rogues, he thought Mr. Dinmont had better tie a handkerchief 
round his head, for fear of the cold frosty air aggravating the 
wound. 

"What would I do that fori" answered the hardy farmer; 
"the best way's to let the blood barken upon the cut — that 
saves plasters, hinney." 

Brown, who in his military profession had seen a great many 
hard blows pass, could not help remarking, "he had never 
known such severe strokes received with so much apparent 
indifference." 

" Hout tout; man — ^I would never be making a hum-dudgeon 
about a scart on the pow — ^but we'll be in Scotland in five 
minutes now, and ye maun gang up to Charlies-hope wi' me, 
that's a clear case." 

Brown readily accepted the offered hospitality. Night was 
now falling, when they came in sight of a pretty river winding 
its way through a pastoral country. The hills were greener and 
more abrupt than those which Brown had lately passed, sinking 
their grassy sides at once upon the river. They had no pre- 
tensions to magnificence of height, or to romantic shapes, nor 
did their smooth swelling slopes exhibit either rocks or woods. 
Yet the view was wild, solitary, and pleasingly rural No 
enclosures, no roads, almost no tillage — it seemed a land which 
a patriardi would have chosen to feed his flocks and herds. 
The remains of here and there a dismantled and ruined tower 
showed that it had once harboured beings of a very different 
description frx)m its present inhabitants; namely, those fr-ee- 
hooters to whose exploits the wars between England and Scot- 
land bear witness. 

Descending by a path towards a well-known ford, Dumple 
crossed the small river, and then quickening his pace, trotted 
about a mile briskly up its banks, and approached two or three 

VOL. n. M 



162 WAVERLET NOVELS. 

low thatclied houses, placed with their angles to each other, 
with a great contempt of regularity. This was the farm-stead- 
ing of Charlies-hope, or, in the language of the country, " the 
Town." A most furious barking was set up at their approach 
by the whole three generations of Mustard and Pepper, and a 
number of allies, names unknown. The farmer made his well- 
known voice lustily heard to restore order; the door opened, 
and a half-dressed ewe-milker, who had done that good office, 
shut it in their faces, in order that she might run ben the house 
to cry " Mistress, mistress, it's the master, and another man wi, 
him." Dumple, turned loose, walked to his own stable-door, 
and there pawed and whinnied for admission, in strains which 
were answered by his acquaintances from the interior. Amid 
this bustle. Brown was fain to secure Wasp from the other dogs, 
who, with ardour corresponding more to their own names than 
to the hospitable temper of their owner, were much disposed to 
use the intruder roughly. 

In about a minute a stout labourer was patting Dumple, and 
introducing him into the stable, while Mrs. Dinmont, a well- 
favoured buxom dame, welcomed her husband with unfeigned 
rapture. " Eh, sirs ! gudeman, ye hae been a weary whilo 
away."* 

* Note C. Dftndie Dinmont 



CHAPTER TWENTY-FOURTH, 

Liddell till now, except in Doric lays, 
Tuned to her murmurs by her lovenBdck swains, 
Unknown in song — ^though not a purer stream 
BoUs towards tlie western main. 

Art op PRBSERViNa Hsalth. 

The present store-farmers of the south of Scotland are a much 
more refined race than their fathers, and the manners I am now 
to describe have either altogether disappeared, or are greatly 
modified. Without losing the rural simplicity of manners, they 
now cultivate arts unknown to the former generation, not only 
in the progressive improvement of their possessions, but in aU 
the comforts of life. Their houses are more commodious, therr 



aUY MANNERING. 163 

habits of life regulated so as better to keep pace with those oi 
the civilized world; and the best of luxuries, the luxury of 
knowledge, has gained much ground among their hills during 
the last thirty years. Deep drinking, formerly their greatest 
failing, is now fast losing ground ; and, while the frankness of 
their extensive hospitality continues the same, it is, generally 
speaking, refined in its character, and restrained in its excesses. 

*^ Deil's in the wife,'' said Dandie Dinmont, shaking off his 
spouse's embrace, but gently and with a look of great affection ; 
" deil's in ye, Ailie — d'ye no see the strange gentleman ]" 

Ailie turned to make her apology — " Troth, I was sae weel 

pleased to see the gudeman, that But, gude gracious ! what's 

the matter wi' ye baith ]" — ^for they were now in her little 
parlour, and the candle showed the streaks of blood which 
Dinmont's wounded head had plentifully imparted to the clothes 
of his companion as well as to his own. " Ye've been fighting 
again. Dandy, wi' some o' the Bewcastle horse-ooupers ! Wow, 
man, a married man, wi' a bonny family like yours, should ken 
better what a father's life's worth in the warld." — The tears 
stood in the good woman's eyes as she spoke. 

'' Whisht ! whisht, gudewtfe !" said her husband, with a smack 
that had much more affection than ceremony in it ; — " never 
mind — ^never mind — ^there's a gentleman that will tell you, that 
just when I had ga'en up to Lourie Lowther's, and had bidden 
the drinking of twa cheerers, and gotten just in again upon the 
moss, and was whigging cannily awa hame, twa land-loupers 
jumpit out of a peat-hag on me or I was thinking, and got me 
down, and knevelled me sair aneuch, or I could gar my whip 
walk about their lugs; — and troth, gudewife, if this honest 
gentleman hadna come up, I would hisve gotten mair licks than 
I like, and lost mair siller than I could weel spare ; so ye maun 
be thankful to him for it, under Crod." With that he drew 
firom his side-pocket a large greasy leather pocket-book, and 
bade the gudewife lock it up in her kist. 

*^ Grod bless the gentleman, and e'en CM bless him wi' a' my 
heart ! But what can we do for him, but to gie him the meat 
and quarters we wadna refuse to the poorest body on earth — 
unless" (her eye directed to the pocket-book, but with a feeling 
of natural propriety which made the inference the most delicate 

possible) " unless there was ony other way" Brown saw, and 

estimated at its due rate, the mixture of simplicity and grateful 



164 WAVERLEY NOVBM. 

g«ierosity which took the downright way of expressing itself 
yet qualified with so much delicacy. He was aware his own 
appearance, plain at best, and now torn and spattered with 
blood, made him an object of pity at least, and perhaps of 
charity. He hastened to say his name was Brown, a captain 

in the regiment of cavalry, travelling for pleasure, and on 

foot, both from motives of independence and economy ; and he 
begged his kind landlady would look at her husband's wounds, 
the state of which he had refused to permit him to examine. 
Mrs. Dinmont was used to her husband's broken heads more 
than to the presence of a captain of dragoons. She therefore 
glanced at a table-cloth, not quite clean, and conned over her 
proposed supper a miaute or two, before, patting her husband 
on the shoulder, she bade him sit down for " a hard-headed 
loon, that was aye bringing himsel and other folk into coUie- 
shangies." 

When Dandie Dinmont, after executing two or three caprioles, 
and cutting the Highland-fling, by way of ridicule of his wife's 
anxiety, at last deigned to sit down, and conmiit his round, 
black, shaggy bullet of a head to her inspection. Brown thought 
he had seen the regimental surgeon look grave upon a more 
trifling case. The gudewife, however, showed some knowledge 
of chirurgery — she cut away with her scissors the gory locks, 
whose stiffened and coagulated clusters interfered" with her 
operations, and clapped on the wound some lint besmeared with 
a vulnerary salve, esteemed sovereign by the whole dale (which 
afforded upon. Fair nights considerable experience of such cases) 
— she then fixed her plaster with a bandage, and, spite of her 
patient's resistance, pulled over all a night-cap, to keep everything 
in its right place. Some contusions on the brow and shoulders 
she fomented with brandy, which the patient did not permit till 
the mediciae had paid a heavy toll to his mouth. Mrs. Dinmont 
then simply, but kindly, offered her assistance to Brown. 

He assured her he had no occasion for anything but the 
accommodation of a basin and toweL 

''And that's what I should have thought of sooner," she 
said ; " and I did think o't, but I durst na open the door, for 
there's a' the bairns, poor things, sae keen to see their father." 

This explained a great drumming and whining at the door 
of the little parlour, which had somewhat surprised Brown, 
though his kind landlady had only noticed it by fastening the 



GUY MANNERING. 165 

bolt as soon as she heard it bogin. But on her opening the 
door to seek the basin and towel (for she never thought of 
showing the guest to a separate room), a whole tide of white- 
headed urchins streamed in, some firom the stable, where they 
had been seeing Dumple, and giving hun a welcome home with 
part of their four-hours scones ; others from the kitchen, where 
they had been listening to old Elspeth's tales and ballads ; and 
the youngest, half-naked, out of bed, — all roaring to see daddy, 
and to inquire what he had brought home for them from the 
various fairs he had visited in his peregrinations. Our knight 
of the broken head first kissed and hugged them all round, then 
distributed whistles, penny-trumpets, and gragerbread; and 
lastly, when the tumult of their joy and welcome got beyond 
bearing, exclaimed to his guest—" This is a' the gudewife's 
fault. Captain — she will gie the bairns a* their ain way." 

"Me! Lord help me!" said Ailie, who at that instant en- 
tered with the basin and ewer, " how can I help it 1 — ^I have 
naething else to gie them, poor things ! " 

Dinmont then exerted himself, and, between coaxing, threats, 
and shoving, cleared the room of all the intruders, excepting a 
boy and girl, the two eldest of the family, who could, as he ob- 
served, behave themselves " distinctly." For the same reason, 
but with less ceremony, all the dogs were kicked out, excepting 
the venerable patriarchs, old Pepper and Mustard, whom frequent 
castigation and the advance of years had inspired with such a 
share of passive hospitaUty, that, after mutual explanation and 
remonstrance in the shape of some growling, they admitted 
Wasp, who had hitherto judged it safe to keep beneath his 
master's chair, to a share of a dried wedder*s skin, which, with the 
wool uppermost and unshorn, served all the purposes of a Bristol 
hearth-rug. 

The active bustle of the mistress (so she was called in the 
kitchen, and the gudewife in the parlour) had already signed 
the fate of a couple of fowls, which, for want of time to dress 
them otherwise, soon appeared reeking from the gridiron — or 
brander, as Mrs. Dinmont denominated it. A huge piece of 
cold beef-ham, eggs, butter, cakes, and barley-meal bannocks 
in plenty, made up the entertainment, which was to be diluted 
with home-brewed ale of excellent quality, and a case-bottle of 
brandy. Few soldiers would find fault with such cheer after a 
day's hard exercise, and a skirmish to boot; accordingly, 



166 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

Browu did great honour to the eatables. While the gudewife 
partly aided, partly instructed, a great stout servant girl, with 
cheeks as red as her top-knot, to remove the supper matters, 
and supply sugar and hot water, (which, in the damseFB 
anxiety to gaze upon an actual live captain, she was in some 
danger of forgetting,) Brown took an opportunity to ask his 
host whether he did not repent of having neglected the gipsy's 
hint. 

"Wha kens]" answered he; "they're queer deevils; maybe 
I might just have 'scaped ae gang to meet the other. And yet 
I'll no say that neither ; for if that randy wife was coming to 
Charlies-hope, she should have a pint bottle o' brandy and a 
pound o' tobacco to wear her through the winter. They're queer 
deevils ; as my auld father used to say — they're warst where 
they're warst guided. After a', there's baith gude and ill about 
the gipsies." 

This, and some other desultory conversation, served as a " shoe- 
ing-hom" to draw on another cup of ale, and another cheerer, as 
Dinmont termed it in his country phrase, of brandy and water. 
Brown then resolutely declined all fiirther conviviality for that 
evening, pleading his own weariness and the effects of the skir- 
mish, — ^being weU aware that it would have availed nothing to 
have remonstrated with his host on the danger that excess 
might have occasioned to his own raw wound and bloody cox- 
comb. A very small bed-room, but a very clean bed, received 
the traveller, and the sheets made good the courteous vaunt 
of the hostess, " that they would be as pleasant as he could 
find ony gate, for they were washed wi' the fairy-well water, and 
bleached on the bonny white gowans, and bittled by Nelly and 
hersell ; and what could woman, if she was a queen, do mair 
for them ]" 

They indeed rivalled snow in whiteness, and had, besides, a 
pleasant fragrance from the manner in which they had been 
bleached. Little Wasp, after licking his master's hand to ask 
leave, couched himself on the coverlet at his feet ; and the 
traveller's senses were soon lost in grateful oblivion. 



OUY MANNERINa 167 



CHAPTER TWENTY-FIFTa 



Give, ye Britons, then, 



Your sportive fury, pitiless, to pour 
Loose on the nightly robber of the fold. 
Him, from his craggy winding haunts unearthed. 
Let all the thunder of the chase pursue. 

Thomson's Seasons. 

Bbown rose early in the morning, and walked out to look at 
the establishment of his new friend. All was rough and neglec- 
ted in the neighbourhood of the house-; — a paltry garden, no 
pains taken to make the vicinity dry or comfortable, and a total 
absence of all those little neatnesses which give the eye so much 
pleasure in looking at an English farm-house. There were, not- 
withstanding, evident signs that this arose only from want of 
taste, or ignorance, not from poverty, or the negligence which 
attends it. On the contrary, a noble cow-house, well filled with 
good milk-cows, a feeding house, with ten bullocks of the most 
approved breed, a stable, with two good teams of horses, the ap- 
pearance of domestics, active, industrious, and apparently content- 
ed with their lot ; in a word, an air of liberal though sluttish 
plenty, indicated the wealthy farmer. The situation of the 
house above the river formed a gentle declivity, which relieved 
the iuhabitants of the nuisances that might otlierwise have 
stagnated around it. At a little distance was the whole band 
of children, playing and building houses with peats around a 
huge doddered oak-tree, which was called Charlie's-Bush, from 
some tradition respecting an old freebooter who had once in- 
habited the spot. Between the farm-house and the hUl-pasture 
was a deep morass, termed in that country a slack : it had once 
been the defence of a fortalice, of which no vestiges now re- 
mained, but which was said to have been inhabited by the same 
doughty hero we have now alluded to. Brown endeavoured to 
make some acquaintance with the children ; but " the roguea 
fled from him like quicksilver," though the two eldest stood 
peeping when they had got to some distance. The traveller then 
turned his course towards the hill, crossing the foresaid swamp 
by a range of stepping-stones, neither the broadest nor steadiest 



168 WAVEKLEY NOVELS. 

that could be imagined. He had not climbed far up the hill 
when he met a man descending. 

He soon recognised his worthy host, though a maud, as it is 
called, or a grey shepherd's plaid, supplied his travelling jockey- 
coat, and a cap, faced with wild cat's fur, more commodiously 
covered his bandaged head than a hat would have done. As 
he appeared through the morning mist. Brown, accustomed 
to judge of men by their thews and sinews, could not help 
admiring his height, the breadth of his shoulders, and the 
steady firmness of his step. Dinmont internally paid the same 
compliment to Brown, whose athletic form he now perused 
somewhat more at leisure than he had done formerly. After 
the usual greetings of the morning, the guest inquired whether 
his host found any inconvenient consequences from the last 
night's affi-ay. 

" I had maist forgotten't," said the hardy Borderer ; " but I 
think this morning, now that I am fresh and sober, if you and I 
were at the Withershin's Latch, wi' ilka ane a gude oak souple 
in his hand, we wadna turn back, no for half a dizzen o' yon 
scaff-raff." 

" But are you prudent, my good sir," said Brown, " not to 
take an hour or two's repose after receiving such severe con- 
tusions 1" 

" Confusions !" replied the farmer, laughing in derision; — 
" Lord, Captain, naething confuses my head. — ^I ance jumped 
up and laid the dogs on the fox after I had tumbled frx)m the 
tap o' Christenbury Craig, and that might have confused me to 
purpose. Na — ^naething confuses me, unless it be a screed o' 
drink at an orra time. Besides, I behooved to be round the 
hirsel this mommg, and see how the herds were coming on— 
they're apt to be negligent wi* their foot-balls, and fairs, and 
trysts, when ane's away. And there I met wi' Tam o' Todshaw, 
and a wheen o* the rest o' the billies on the water side ; they're 
a' for a fox-hunt this morning — ye'll gang 1 I'llgie ye Dumple, 
and take the brood mare mysell." 

'^ But I fear I must leave you this morning, Mr. Dinmont," 
replied Brown. 

" The fient a bit o* that," exclaimed the Borderer, — " I'll no 
part wi' ye at ony rate for a fortnight mair. — ^Na, na ; we dinna 
meet sic friends as you on a Bewcastle moss every night.'' 

Brown had not designed his journey should be a speedy one ; 



GUY MANNERING. 169 

he therefore readily compounded with his hearty invitation, by 
agreeing to pass a week at Charlies-hope. 

On their return to the house, where the good-wife presided 
over an ample breakfast, she heard news of the proposed fox- 
hunt, not indeed with approbation, but without alarm or sur- 
prise. ^'Dand! yeVe the auld man yet; naething will make 
ye take warning till ye're brought hame some day wi' your feet 
foremost." 

" Tut, lass !*' answered Dandle, "ye ken yoursell I am never 
a prin the waur o' my rambles." 

So saying, he exhorted Brown to be hasty in despatching his 
break&st, as, " the frost having given way, the scent would lie 
this morning primely." 

Out they sallied, accordingly, for Otterscopescaurs, the farmer 
leading the way. They soon quitted the little valley^ and 
involved themselves among hills as steep as they could be 
without being precipitous. The sides often presented gullies, 
down which, in the winter season, or after heavy rain, the 
torrents descended with great fury. Some dappled mists still 
floated along the peaks of the hills, the remains of the morning 
clouds, for the frost had broken up with a smart shower. 
Through these fleecy screens were seen a hundred little tem- 
porary streamlets or rills, descending the sides of the mountains 
like silver threads. By small sheep-tracks along these steeps, 
over which Binmont trotted with the most fearless confidence, 
they at length drew near the scene of sport, and began to see 
other men, both on horse and foot, making toward the place 
of rendezvous. Brown was puzzling himself to conceive how a 
fox-chase could take place among hills where it was barely 
possible for a pony, accustomed to the ground, to trot along, 
but where, quitting the track for half a yard's breadth, the 
rider might be either bogged, or precipitated down the bank« 
This wonder was not diminished when he came to the place 
of action. 

They had gradually ascended very high, and now found 
themselves on a mountain ridge overhanging a glen of great 
depth, but extremely narrow. Here the sportsmen had collected, 
with an apparatus which would have shocked a member of the 
PytchleyHunt; for, the object being the removal of a noxious 
and destructive animal, as well as the pleasures of the chase, 
poor Eeynard was allowed much less fair play than when pur- 



170 WAVEKLEY NOVELS. 

sued in form through an open country. The strength of hifi 
habitation, however, and the nature of the ground by which it 
was surrounded on all sides, supplied what was wanting in the 
courtesy of his pursuers. The sides of the glen were broken 
banks of earth, and rocks of rotten stone, which sunk sheei 
down to the little winding stream below, affording here and 
there a tuft of scathed brush-wood, or a patch of furze. 
Along the edges of this ravine, which, as we have said, was 
very narrow, but of profound depth, the hunters on horse and 
foot ranged themselves ; almost every farmer had with him at 
least a brace of large and fierce greyhounds, of the race of those 
deer-dogs which were formerly used in that country, but greatly 
lessened in size from being crossed with the common breed. 
The huntsman, a sort of provincial oflBcer of the district, who 
receives a certain supply of meal, and a reward for eveiy fox he 
destroys, was already at the bottom of the dell, whose echoes 
thundered to the chiding of two or three brace of fox-hounds. 
Terriers, including the whole generation of Pepper and Mustard, 
were also in attendance, having been sent forward under the 
care of a shepherd. Mongrel, whelp, and cur of low degree, 
filled up the burden of the chorus. The spectators on the brink 
of the ravine, or glen, held their greyhounds in leash, in readi- 
ness to slip them at the fox, as soon as the activity of the party 
below should force him to abandon his cover. 

The scene, though uncouth to the eye of a professed sports- 
man, had something in it wildly captivating. The shifting 
figures on the mountain ridge, having the sky for their back- 
ground, appeared to move in the air. The dogs, impatient of 
their restraint, and maddened with the baying beneath, sprung 
here and there, and strained at the slips which prevented them 
from joining their companions. Looking down, the view was 
equally striking. The thin mists were not totally dispersed ia 
the glen, so that it was often through their gauzy medium that 
the eye strove to discover the motions of the hunters below. 
Sometimes a breath of wind made the scene visible, the blue rill 
glittering as it twined itself through its rude and solitary dell. 
They then could see the shepherds springing with fearless 
activity from one dangerous point to another, and cheering the 
dogs on the scent — the whole so diminished by depth and dis 
tance, that they looked like pigmies. Again the mists close over 
them, and the only signs of their continued exertions are the 



GUY MAKNERING. 171 

hallooe of the men, and the clamours of the hounds, ascending 
as it were out of the bowels of the earth. When the fox, thus 
persecuted from one stronghold to another, was at length obliged 
to abandon his valley, and to. break away for a more distant 
retreat, those who watched his motions from the top slipped 
their greyhounds, which excelling the fox in swiftness, and 
equalling hun in ferocity and spirit, soon brought the plunderer 
to his life's end. 

In this way, without any attention to the ordinary rules and 
decorums of sport, but apparently as much to the gratification 
both of bipeds and quadrupeds as if aU due ritual had been 
followed, four foxes were killed on this active morning; and 
even Brown himself, though he had seen the princely sports of 
India, and ridden artiger-hunting upon an elephant with the 
Nabob of Arcot, professed to have received an excellent morning's 
amusement. When the sport was given up for the day, most 
of the sportsmen, according to the established hospitality of the 
coimtry, went to dine at Charlies-hope. 

During their return homeward, Brown rode for a short time 
beside the huntsman, and asked him some questions concerning 
the mode in which he exercised his profession. The man showed 
an unwillingness to meet his eye, and a disposition to be rid of 
his company and conversation, for which Brown could not easily 
account. He was a thin, dark, active fellow, well framed for the 
hardy profession which he exercised. But his face had not the 
frankness of the jolly himter ; he was downlooked, embarrassed, 
and avoided the eyes of those who looked hard at him. After 
some unimportant observations on the success of the day. Brown 
gave him a trifling gratuity, and rode on with his landlord. 
They found the gudewife prepared for their reception ; the fold 
and the poultry-yard furnished the entertainment, and the kind 
and hearty welcome made amends for all deficiencies iu elegance 
and fashion. 



172 WAVBELEY NOVKLB. 



CHAPTER TWENTY-SIXTH 

The Elliots and Armstrongs did convene ; 
They were a gallant company ! 

Ballad of Johnnie Abmstbong. 

Without noticing the occupations of an intervening day or 
two, which, as they consisted of the ordinary sylvan amusements 
of shooting and coursing, have nothing suflSciently interesting 
to detain the reader, we pass to one in some degree peculiar to 
Scotland, which may be called a sort of sabnon-hunting. This 
chase, in which the fish is pursued and struck with barbed 
spears, or a sort of long-shafted trident, called a waster* is 
much practised at the mouth of the Esk, and in the other 
salmon rivers of Scotland. The sport is followed by day and 
night, but most commonly in the latter, when the fish are 
discovered by means of torches, or fire-grates, filled with blazing 
fragments of tar-barrels, which shed a strong though partial 
light upon the water. On the present occasion, the principal 
party were embarked in a crazy boat upon a part of the river 
which was enlarged and deepened by the restraint of a mill- 
wear, while others, like the ancient Bacchanals in their gambols, 
ran along the banks, brandishing their torches and spears, and 
pursuing the salmon, some of which endeavoured to escape up 
the stream, while others, shrouding themselves under roots of 
treesjr fragments of stones, and large rocks, attempted to conceal 
themselves fi'om the researches of the fishermen. These the 
party in the boat detected by the slightest indications; the 
twinkling of a fin, the rising of an air-beU, was sufficient to 
point out to these adroit sportsmen in what directibn to use 
their weapon. 

The scene was inexpressibly animating to those accustomed 
to it j but as Brown was not practised to use the spear, he soon 
tired of making efforts which were attended with no other 
consequences than jarring his arms against the rocks at the 

* Or leister. The long spear is used for striking ; bnt there is a shorter, 
which is cast from the hand, and with which an experienced sportsman hitr 
the fish with singular dexterity. 



—I 



GUT MANNERlWa 173 

bottom of the riyer, upon which, instead of the devoted salmon, 
he often bestowed his blow. Nor did he relish, though he 
concealed feelings which would not have been understood, being 
quite 80 near the agonies of the expiring sahnon, as they lay 
flapping about in the boat, which they moistened with their 
blood. He therefore requested to be put ashore, and, from the 
top of a heugh, or broken bank, enjoyed the scene much more 
to his satisfaction. Often he thought of his Mend Dudley, the 
artist, when* he observed the eflfect produced by the strong red 
glare on the romantic banks under which the boat glided. Now 
the light diminished to a distant star that seemed to twinkle 
on the waters like those which, according to the legends of the 
country, the water-kelpy sends for the purpose of indicating the 
watery grave of his victims. Then it advanced nearer, brighten- 
ing and enlarging as it again approached, till the broad flickering 
flame rendered bank, and rock, and tree, visible as it passed, 
tinging them with its own red glare of dusky light, and resigning 
them graduaUy to darkness, or to pale moonlight, as it receded. 
By this light also were seen the figures in the boat, now holding 
high their weapons, now stooping to strike, now standing 
upright, bronzed by the same red glare, into a colour which 
might have befitted the regions of Pandemonium. 

Having amused himself for some time with these effects of 
light and shadow. Brown strolled homewards towards the farm- 
house, gazing in his way at the persons engaged in the sport, 
two or three of whom are generally kept together, one holding 
the torch, the others with their spears, ready to avail themselves 
of the light it aflbrds to strike their prey. As he observed one 
man struggling with a very weighty salmon which he had 
speared, but was imable completely to raise from the water, 
Brown advanced close to the bank to see the issue of his exer- 
tions. The man who held the torch in this instance was the 
huntsman, whose sulky demeanour Brown had already noticed 
with surprise. 

'' Come here, sir ! come here, sir ! look at this ane ! He 
turns up a side like a sow.'' Such was the cry from the assist- 
ants when some of them observed Brown advancing. 

" Ground the waster weel, man ! ground the waster weel ! — 
baud him down — ^ye haena the pith o' a cat !" — ^were the cries 
of advice, encouragement, and expostulation, from those who 
were oi) the bank, to the sportsman engaged with the salmon, 



174 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

who stood np to his middle in water, jingling among broken 
ice, straggling against the force of the fish and the strength of 
the current, and dubious in what manner he should attempt to 
secure his booty. As Brown came to the edge of the bank, he 
called out — ''Hold up your torch. Mend huntsman!" for he 
had already distinguished his dusky features by the strong light 
cast upon them by the blaze. But the fellow no sooner heard 
his voice, and saw, or rather concluded, it was Brown who 
approached him, than, instead of advancing his liglit, he let it 
drop, as if accidentally, into the water. 

'' The deil's in Gabriel 1'' said the spearman, as the fragments 
of glowing wood floated half-blazing, half-sparkling, but soon 
extinguished, down the stream — '' the deil's in the man . — I'll 
never master him without the light — ^and a braver kipper, could 
I but land him, never reisted abune a pair o' cleeks."* Some 
dashed into the water to lend their assistance, and the fish, 
which was afterwards found to weigh nearly thirty pounds, was 
landed in safety. 

The behaviour of the huntsman struck Brown, although he 
had no recollection of his face, nor could conceive why he 
should, as it appeared he evidently did, shun his observatioa 
Could it be one of the footpads he had encountered a few days 
before ? The supposition was not altogether improbable, although 
unwarranted by any observation he was able to make upon 
the man's figure and face. To be sure, the villains wore their 
hats much slouched, and had loose coats, and their size was 
not in any way so peculiarly discriminated as to enable him 
to resort to that criterion. He resolved to speak to his host 
Dinmont on the subject, but for obvious reasons concluded it 
were best to defer the explanation until a cool hour in the 
morning. 

The sportsmen returned loaded with fish, upwards of one 
hundred salmon having been killed within tiie range of their 
sport. The best were selected for the use of the principal 
farmers, the others divided among their shepherds, cottars, 
dependents, and others of inferior rank who attended. These 
fish, dried in the turf smoke of their cabins, or shealings, formed 
a savoury addition to the mess of potatoes, mixed with onions, 
which was the principal part of their winter food. In the 

* Note D. Lorn Cleeks. 



GUY MAiraHRING. 175 

xneanwhile, a liberal distribution of ale and whisky was made 
among them, besides what was called a kettle of fish, — ^two or 
three salmon, namely, plunged into a cauldron, and boiled for 
their supper. Brown accompanied his joUy landlord and the 
rest of his Mends into the large and smoky kitchen, where this 
savoury mess reeked on an oaken table, massive enough to have 
dined Johnnie Armstrong and his merry-men. All was hearty 
cheer and huzza, and jest and clamorous laughter and bragging 
alternately, and raillery between whiles. Our traveller looked 
earnestly around for the dark countenance of the fox-hunter; 
but it was nowhere to be seen. 

At length he hazarded a question concerning him. '' That 
was an awkward accident, my lads, of one of you, who dropped 
his torch in the water ^hen his companion was struggling with 
the large fish." 

*^ Awkward !" returned a shepherd, looking up (the same stout 
young feUow who had speared the salmon), " he deserved his 
paiks for't — ^to put out the light when the fish was on ane'.s 
witters 1* — ^I'm weel convinced Grabriel drapped the roughiesf 
in the water on purpose — ^he doesna like to see onybody do a 
thing better than himselL" 

"Ay," said another, ''he's sair shamed o' himsell, else he 
would have been up here the night — Gabriel likes a little o' the 
gude thing as weel as ony o' us." 

" Is he of this country 1" said Brown. 

" Na, na, he's been but shortly in office ; but he's a fell 
hunter — ^he's frae down the country, some gate on the Dumfries 
side." 

"And what's his name, pray 1" 

" Gabriel" 

" But Gabriel what 1" 

"Oh, Lord ken's that; we dinna mind folks after-names 
muckle here, they run sae muckle into dans." 

" Ye see, sir," said an old shepherd, rising and speaking very 
slow, " the folks hereabout are a' Armstrongs and Elliots, it ^^^ 
sic like — ^twa or three given names — and so, for distinction's 

* The barbs of the spear. 

t. When dry splinters, or branches, are nsed as fuel to supply the light 
for burning the water, as it is called, they are termed, as in the text, Boughiea. 
When rags, dipped in tar, are employed, they are called Hards, probably 
from the French. 1 Note K Clan Suroames. 



176 WAVBBLEY NOVELa 

Bake, the lairdB and farmers have the names of their places that 
they live at — as for example, Tam o* Todshaw, Will o' the Flat, 
Hobbie o' Sorbietrees, and our good master here, o' the Charhea- 
hope. — ^Aweel, sir, and then the inferior sort o' people, ye'll 
observe, are kend by sorts o' by-names some o' them, as Grlaiket 
Christie, and the Deuke's Davie, or maybe, like this lad Gabriel, 
by his employment; as for example. Tod Gabbie, or Himter 
Gabbie. He's no been lang here, sir, and I dinna think ony- 
body kens him by ony other name. But it's no right to rin him 
doon ahint his back, for he's a fell fox-hunter, though he's 
maybe no just sae clever as some o' the folk hereawa wi' the 
waster." 

After some further desultory conversation, the superior sports- 
men retired to conclude the evening after their own manner, 
leaving the others to enjoy themselves, unawed by their presence. 
That evening, like all those which Brown had passed at Charlies- 
hope, was spent in much innocent mirth and conviviality. The 
latter might have approached to the verge of riot, but for the 
good women; for several of the neighbouring mistresses (a 
phrase of a signification how different from what it bears in 
more fashionable life!) had assembled at Charlies-hope to 
witness the event of this memorable evening. Finding the 
punch-bowl was so often replenished, that there was some 
danger of their gracious presence being forgotten, they rushed 
in valorously upon the recreant revellers, headed by our good 
mistress Ailie, so that Venus speedily routed Bacchus. The 
fiddler and piper next made their appearance, and the best 
part of the night was gallantly consumed in dancing to their 
music. 

An otter-hunt the next day, and a badger-baiting the day 
after, consumed the time merrily. — ^I hope our traveller will not 
sink in the reader's estimation, sportsman though he may be, 
when I inform him, that on thk last occasion, after /oun^ 
Pepper had lost a fore-foot, and Mustard the second had been 
nearly throttled, he begged as a particular and personal favour 
of Mr. Dinmont, that the poor badger, who had made so gallant 
a defence, should be permitted to retire to his earth without 
farther molestation. 

The farmer, who would probably have treated this request 
with supreme contempt had it come from any other person, was 
contented, in Brown's case, to express the utter extremity of his 



GXTY MANNERINO. 177 

wonder. " Weel," he said, " that's queer aneugh ! — But smce 
ye take his part, deil a tyke shall meddle wi' him mair in my 
day — ^we'll e'en mark him, and ca' him the Captain's brock — 
and I'm sure I'm glad I can do onything to oblige you — ^but, 
Lord save us, to care about a brock !" 

After a week spent in rural sport, and distinguished by the 
most firank attentions on the part of his honest landlord, Brown 
bade adieu to the banks of the Liddel, and the hospitality of 
GharHes-hope. The children, with all of whom he had now be- 
come an intimate and a favourite, roared manfully in full chorus 
at his departure, and lie was obliged to promise twenty times, 
that he would soon return and play over all their favourite tunes 
upon the flageolet tiQ they had got them by heart. " Come back 
again. Captain," said one little sturdy feUow, " and Jenny will 
be your wife." Jenny was about eleven years old : she ran and 
hid herself behiud her mammy. 

" Captain, come back," said a little fat roll-about girl of six, 
holding her mouth up to be kissed, " and I'll be your wife my 
amsell." 

" They must be of harder mould than I," thought Brown, 
" who could "part from so many kind hearts with indifference." 
The good dame too, with matron modesty, and an affectionate 
simplicity that marked the olden time, offered her cheek to the 
departing guest — " It's little the like of us can do," she said, 
" little indeed — ^but yet — if there were but onything" 

" Now, my dear Mrs. Dinmont, you embolden me to make a 
request — ^would you but have the kindness to weave me, or work 
me, just such a grey plaid as the goodman wears ?" He had 
learned the language and feelings of the countiy even during 
the short time of his residence, and was aware of the pleasure 
the request would confer, 

" A tait o' woo' would be scarce amang us," said the gudewife, 
brightening, " if ye shouldna hae that, and as gude a tweel as 
ever cam aff a pirn. I'U speak to Johnnie Goodsire, the weaver 
at the Castletown, the mom. Fare ye weel, sir ! — and may ye 
be just as happy yoursell as ye like to see a' body else — and that 
would be a sair wish to some folk." 

I must not omit to mention, that our traveller left his trusty 
attendant Wasp to be a guest at Charlies-hope for a season. He 
foresaw that he might prove a troublesome attendant in the 
event of his being in any situation where secrecy and concealment 

VOL. 11. N 



178 WAVEBLBY NOVELS. 

might be necessary. He wsm therefore corndgaed to the caie of 
the eldest boy, who promised, in the words of the old song, that 
he should have 

A bit of his supper, a bit of bis bed, 

and that he should be engaged in none of those perilous pastimes 
in which the race of Mustard and Pepper had suffered frequent 
mutilation. Brown now prepared for his journey, having taken 
a temporary farewell of his trusty little companion. 

There is an odd prejudice in these hills in favour of riding. 
Every farmer rides well, and rides the whole day. Probably 
the extent of their large pasture farms, and the necessity of 
surveying them rapidly, first introduced this custom ; or a very 
zealous antiquary might derive it from the times of the Lay of 
the Last Minstrel, when twenty thousand horsemen assembled 
at the light of the beacon fires.* But the truth is undeniable ; 
they like to be on horseback, and can be with diflSculty con- 
vinced that any one chooses walking from other motives than 
those of convenience or necessity. Accordingly, Dinmont in- 
sisted upon mounting his guest, and accompanying him on horse- 
back as far as the nearest town in Dumfries-shire, where he had 
directed his baggage to be sent, and from which he proposed to 
pursue his intended journey towards Woodboume, the residence 
of Julia Mannering. 

Upon the way he questioned his companion concerning the 
character of the fox-hunter ; but gained little information, as he 
had been called to that office while Dinmont was making the 
round of the Highland fairs. *' He was a shake-rag like fellow," 
he said, " and, he dared to say, had gipsy blood in his veins ; 
but at ony rate, he was nane o' the smacks that had been on 
their quarters in the moss — he would ken them weel if he saw 
them again. There are some no bad folk amang the gipsies too, 
to be sic a gang," added Dandle; "if ever I see that auld 
randle-tree of a wife again, I'll gie her something to buy 
tobacco — I have a great notion she meant me very fair after a\" 

When they were about finally to part, the good farmer held 
Brown long by the hand, and at length said, " Captain, the woo's 

* It would be affectatioii to alter this reference. But the reader will 
nnderstand, that it was inserted to keep np the author's incognito, as he 
was not likely to be suspected of quoting his own works. This explanation 
is also applicable to one or two similar passages, in this and the other 
aoYols. introdooad for the same reason. 



OUT MANNEBINO. 179 

sae weel up the year, that it's paid a' the rent, and we have 
naething to do wi' the rest o' the siller when Ailie has had her 
new gown, and the bairns their bits o' duds — ^now I was think- 
ing of some safe hand to put it into, for it's ower muckle to 
ware on brandy and sugar — ^now I have heard that you army 
gentlemen can sometimes buy yoursells up a step; and if a 
hundred or twa would help ye on such an occasion, the bit 
scrape o' your pen would be as good to me aa the siller, and ye 
might just take yere ain time o' settling it — it wad be a great 
convenience to me." Brown, who felt the full delicacy that 
wished to disguise the conferring an obligation under the show 
of asking a favour, thanked his grateful friend most heartily, 
and assured him he would have recourse to his purse, without 
scruple, should circumstances ever render it convenient for 
him. And thus they parted with many expressions of mutual 
regard. 



CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

If thou hast any love of mercy in thee, 
Tom me upon my face, that I may die. 

Joanna Baillib. 

OxTB traveller hired a post-chaise at the place where he 
separated &om Dinmont, with the purpose of proceeding to 
Kippletringan, there to inquire into the state of the &unily 
at Woodboume, before he should venture to make his presence 
in the countiy known to Miss Mannering. The stage was a 
long one of eighteen or twenty miles, and the road lay across 
the country. To add to the inconveniences of the journey, the 
snow bc^an to fall pretty quickly. The postilion, however, 
proceeded on his journey for a good many miles, without 
expressing doubt or hesitation. It was not until the night was 
completely set in, jfchat he intimated his apprehensions whether 
he was in the right road. The -increasing snow rendered this 
mtimation rather alarming, for as it drove fall in the lad's face, 
and lay whitening all around him, it served in two different 
ways to confuse his knowledge of the country, and to diminish 
the chance of his recovering the right track. Brown then 
himself got out and looked round, not, it may well be imagined. 



180 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

from any better hope than that of seeing some house at which 
he might make inquiry. But none appeared — ^he could there- 
fore only tell the lad to drive steadily on. The road on which 
they were ran through plantations of considerable extent and 
depth, and the traveller therefore conjectured that there must 
be a gentleman's house at no great distance. At length, after 
struggling wearily on for about a mile, the post-boy stopped, 
and protested his horses would not budge a foot farther ; " but 
he saw," he said, " a light among the trees, which must proceed 
from a house ; the only way was to inquire the road there." 
Accordingly, he dismounted, heavily encumbered with a long 
great-coat and a pair of boots which might have rivalled in 
thickness the seven-fold shield of Ajax. As in this guise he was 
plodding forth upon his voyage of discovery. Brown's impatience 
prevailed, and, jumping out of the carriage, he desired the lad 
to stop where he was, by the horses, and he would himself go 
to the house— a command which the driver most joyfully 

obeyed. 

Our traveller groped along the side of the enclosure from 
which the light glimmered, in order to find some mode of 
approaching in that direction, and after proceeding for some 
space, at length found a stile in the hedge, and a pathway 
leading into the plantation, which in that place was of great 
extent. This promised to lead to the light which was the object 
of his search, and accordingly Brown proceeded in that direction, 
but soon totally lost sight of it among the trees. The path, 
which at first seemed broadband well marked by the opening of 
the wood through which it winded, was now less easily distin- 
guishable, although the whiteness of the snow afforded some 
reflected light to assist his search. Directing himself as much 
as possible through the more open parts of the wood, he pro- 
ceeded almost a mile without either recovering a view of the 
light, or seeing anything resembling a habitation. Still, however, 
he thought it best to persevere in that direction. It must 
surely have been a light in the hut of a 6)rester, for it shone 
too steadily to be the glimmer of an ignis fatwus. The ground 
at length became broken, and declined rapidly; and although 
Brown conceived he still moved along what had once at least 
been a pathway, it was now very unequal, and the snow 
concealing those breaches and inequalities, the traveller had 
one or two £alls in consequence. He began now to think of 



GUY MANNERING. 181 

turning back, especially as the falling snow, which his impatience 
had hitherto prevented his attending to, was coming on thicker 
and faster. 

Willing, howeyer, to make a last effort, he still advanced a 
little way, when, to his great delight, he beheld the light 
opposite at no great distance, and apparently upon a level with 
him. He quickly found that this last appearance was deception, 
for the ground continued so rapidly to sink, as made it obvious 
there was a deep deU, or ravine of some kind, between him and 
the object of his search. Taking every precaution to preserve 
his footing, he continued to descend until he reached the bottom 
of a very steep and narrow glen, through which winded a small 
rivulet, whose course was then almost choked with snow. He 
now found himself embarrassed among the ruins of cottages, 
whose black gables, rendered more distinguishable by the 
contrast with the whitened surface from which they rose, were 
stiU standing ; the side-walls had long since given way to time, 
and, piled in shapeless heaps, and covered with snow, offered 
frequent and embarrassing obstacles to our traveller's progress. 
Still, however, he persevered — crossed the rivulet, not without 
some trouble, and at length, by exertions which became both 
painful and perilous, ascended its opposite and very rugged 
bank, until he came on a level with the building from which 
the gleam proceeded. 

It was difficult, especially by so imperfect a light, to discover 
the nature of this edifice ; but it seemed a square building of 
small size, the upper part of which was totally ruinous. It 
had, perhaps, been the abode, in former times, of some lesser 
proprietor, or a place of strength and concealment in case of 
need for one of greater importance. But only the lower vault 
remained, the arch of which formed the roof in the present 
state of the building. Brown first approached the place firom 
whence the light proceeded, which was a long narrow slit or 
loophole, such as usually are to be found in old castles. Impelled 
by curiosity to reconnoitre the interior of this strange place 
before he entered, Brown gazed in at this aperture. A scene of 
greater desolation could not well be imagiaed. There was a 
fire upon the floor, the smoke of which, after circling through 
the apartment, escaped by a hole broken in the arch above. 
The walls, seen by this smoky light, had the rude and waste 
appearance of a ruia of three centuries old at least. A cask or 



182 WAVERLET NOVELS. 

two, with some broken boxes and packages, lay about the place 
in confusion. But the inmates chiefiy occupied Brown's atten- 
tion. Upon a lair composed of straw, with a blanket stretched 
over it, lay a figure, so still, that, except it was not dressed in 
the ordinary habiliments of the grave. Brown would have 
concluded it to be a corpse. On a steadier view he perceived 
it was only on the point of becoming so, for he heard one or 
two of those low, deep, and hard-drawn sighs, that precede 
dissolution when the frsune is tenacious of life. A female figure, 
dressed in a long cloak, sate on a stone by this miserable couch ; 
her elbows rested upon her knees, and her face, averted from 
the light of an iron lamp beside her, was bent upon that of the 
dying person. She moistened his mouth from time to time 
with some liquid, and between whiles sung, in a low, monoto- 
nous cadence, one of those prayers, or rather speUs, which, in 
some parts of Scotland, and the north of England, are used by 
the vulgar and ignorant to speed the passage of a parting spirit, 
like the tolling of the bell in Catholic days. She accompanied 
this dismal sound with a slow rocking motion of her body to 
and frt>, as if to keep time with her song. The words ran 
nearly thus : — 

Wasted, weary, "wherefore stay, Fear not snow-drift driving fast, 

Wrestling thus with earth and clay t Sleet or hail, or levin blast ; 
From the body pass away ; — Soon the shroud shall lap thee fast, 

Hark t the mass is singing. And the sleep be on thee cast 

That shall ne'er know waking. 

From thee doff thy mortal weed, Haste thee, haste thee, to be gone, — 
Mary Mother be thy speed, Earth flits fast, and time draws on, — 

Saints to help thee at thy need ; — Gasp thy gasp, and groan thy groan, 
Hark ! the knell is ringing. Day is near ti^e breaking. 

The songstress paused, and was answered by one or two deep 
and hollow groans, that seemed to proceed from the very agony 
of the mortal strife. " It will not be," she muttered to herself; 
" he cannot pass away with that on his mind — ^it tethers him 
here — 

Heaven cannot abide it, 

Earth refuses to hide it.* 

I must open the door ; and rising, she faced towards the door 
of the apartment, observing heedfiilly not to tam back her 

* Note F. Gipsy Superstitions. 



GT7Y MANNERING. 183 

head, and withdrawing a bolt or two (for, notwithstanding the 
miserable appearance of the place, the door was cautioiisly 
secured), she lifted the latch, saying, 

Open lock — end strife. 
Come death, and pass life. 

Brown, who had by this time moved from his post, stood before 
her as she opened the door. She stepped back a pace, and he 
entered, instantly recognising, but with no comfortable sensation, 
the same gipsy woman whom he had met in Bewcastle. She 
also knew him at once, and her attitude, figure, and the anxiety 
of her countenance, assumed the appearance of the well-disposed 
ogress of a fairy tale, warning a stranger not to enter the 
dangerous castle of her husband. The first words she spoke 
(holding up her hands in a reproving manner) were, " Said 1 
not to ye. Make not, meddle not? — ^Beware of the redding 
straik !* you are come to no house o' fair-strae death." So 
saying, she raised the lamp, and turned its light on the dying 
man, whose rude and harsh features were now convulsed with 
the last agony. A roll of linen about his head was stained 
with blood, which had soaked also through the blankets and 
the straw. It was, indeed, under no natural disease, that the 
wretch was suffering. Brown started back from this horrible 
object, and, turning to the gipsy, exclaimed, " Wretched woman, 
who has done this V* 

" They that were permitted," answered Meg Memlies, while 
she scanned with a close and keen glance the features of the 
expiring man. — " He has had a sair struggle — ^but it's passing : 
I kenn'd he would pass when you came in. — That was the death- 
ruckle — ^he's dead." 

Sounds were now heard at a distance, as of voices. " They 
are coming," said she to Brown ; " you are a dead man, if ye 
had as mony lives as hairs." Brown eagerly looked round 
for some weapon of defence. There was none near. He then 
rushed to the door with the intention of plunging among the 
trees, and making his escape by flight, from what he now 
estemed a den of murderers, but Merrilies held him with a 
masculine grasp. " Here," she said, " here — ^be still, and you 

* The redding straik, namely a blow received by a peace-maker who 
interferes betwixt two combatants, to red or separate them, is proverbially 
said to be the most dangerous blow a man can receiveu 



184 WAVEKLEY NOVELS. 

are safe — stir not, wliatever you see or hear, and nothing shall 
befall you." 

Brown, in these desperate circumstances, remembered this 
woman's intimation formerly, and thought he had no chance 
^^ safety but in obeying her. She caused him to couch down 
among a parcel of straw on the opposite side of the apartment 
from the corpse, covered him careflilly, and flung oyer him two 
or three old sacks which lay about the place. Anxious to 
observe what was to happen. Brown arranged, as softly as he 
could, the means of peeping from under the coverings by which 
he was hidden, and awaited with a throbbing heart the issue of 
this stradge and most unpleasant adventure. The old gipsy, in 
the mean time, set about arranging the dead body, composing 
its limbs, and straighting the arms by its side. " Best to do 
this," she muttered, " ere he stiffen." She placed on the dead 
man's breast a trencher, with salt sprinkled upon it, set one 
candle at the head, and another at the feet of the body, and 
tighted both. Then she resumed her song, and awaited the 
approach of those whose voices had been heard without. 

Brown was a soldier, and a brave one ; ^ut he was also a 
man, and at this moment his fears mastered his courage so 
completely, that the cold drops burst out from every pore. The 
idea of being dragged out of his miserable concealment by 
wretches whose trade was that of midnight murder, without 
weapons or the slightest means of defence, except entreaties 
which would be only their sport, and cries for help which could 
never reach other ear than their own — ^his safety entrusted to 
the precarious compassion of a being associated with these 
felons, and whose trade of rapine and imposture must have 
hardened her against every human feeling — ^the bitterness of 
his emotions almost choked him. He endeavoured to read in 
her withered and dark countenance, as the lamp threw its light 
upon her features, something that promised those feelings of 
compassion, which females, even in their most degraded state, 
can seldom altogether smother. There was no such touch of 
humanity about this woman. The interest, whatever it waSji 
that determined her in his favour, arose not from the impulse 
of compassion, but from some internal, and probably capricious, 
associations of feelings, to which he had no clew. It rested, 
perhaps, on a fancied likeness, such as Lady Macbeth found to 
her father in the sleeping monarch. Such were the reflections 



GT7Y MANNERINO. 185 

that paased in rapid succession througli Brown's mind as he 
gazed from his hiding-place upon this extraordinary personage. 
Meantime the gang did not yet approach, and he was almost 
prompted to resume his original intention of attempting an 
escape from the hut, and cursed internally his own irresolution, 
which had consented to his being cooped up where he had 
neither room for resistance nor flight. 

Meg Merrilies seemed equally on the watch. She bent her 
ear to every sound that whistled round the old walls. Then 
she turned again to the dead body, and found something new 
to arrange or alter in its position. " He's a bonny corpse," she 
muttered to herself, " and weel worth the streaking. "^-And in 
this dismal occupation she appeared to feel a sort of professional 
pleasure, entering slowly ioto all the minutiae, as if with the 
skill and feelings of a connoisseur. A long dark-coloured sea- 
cloak, which she dragged out of a comer, was disposed for a 
pall. The face she left bare, after closing the mouth and eyes, 
and arranged the capes of the cloak so as to hide the bloody 
bandages, and give the body, as she muttered, " a mair decent 
appearance." 

At once three or four men, equally ruflians in appearance 
and dress, rushed into the hut. " Meg, ye limb of Satan, how 
dare you leave the door open ?" was the first salutation of the 
party. 

"And wha ever heard of a door beiug* barred when a man 
was in the dead-thraw ? — ^how d'ye think the spirit was to get 
awa through bolts and bars like thae 1" 

"Is he dead, then?" said one who went to the side of the 
couch to look at the body. 

"Ay, ay — dead enough," said another — "but here's what 
shall give him a rousing lykewake." So saying, he fetched a 
keg of spirits from a comer, while Meg hastened to display pipes 
and tobacco. From the activity with which she undertook the 
task, Brown conceived good hope of her fidelity towards her 
guest. It was obvious that she wished to engage the ruffians 
in their debauch, to prevent the discovery which might take 
place, if, by accident, any of them should approach too nearly 
the place of Brown's concealment. 



186 WAVERLKY NOVKLB. 



CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

Nor board nor gamer own we now, 

Nor roof nor latched door, 
Nor kind mate, boxmd, by holy vow, 

To bless a good man's store. 
Noon lulls us in a gloomy den. 

And night is grown our day ; 
Uprouse ye, then, my merry men ! 

And use it as ye may. 

Joanna Baillib. 

Brown could now reckon his foes ; — ^they were five in number j 
two of them were very powerful men, who appeared to be either 
real seamen, or strollers who assumed that character ; the other 
three, an old man and two lads, were slighter made, and &om 
their black hair and dark complexion, seemed to belong to Meg's 
tribe. They passed from one to another the cup out of which 
they drank their spirits. " Here's to his good voyage 1" said 
one of the seamen, drinking ; " a squaUy night he's got, how- 
ever, to drift through the sky in." 

We omit here various execrations with which these honest 
gentlemen garnished their discourse, retaining only such of their 
expletives as are least offensive. 

" 'A does not mind wind and weather — 'A has had many a 
north-easter in his day." 

" He had his last yesterday," said another gruffly ; " and 
now old Meg may pray for his last fair wind, as she's often done 
before." 

" I'll pray for nane o' him," said Meg, " nor for you neither, 
you randy dog. The times are sair altered since I was a kitchen- 
mort.* Men were men then, and fought other in the open field, 
and there was nae milling in the darkmans.t And the gentry 
had kind hearts, and would have given baith lap and pannel X 
to ony puir gipsy ; and there was not one, from Johnnie Faa, 
the upright man,§ to little Christie that was in the panniers, 
would cloyed a dud || from them. But ye are a' altered from 
the gude auld rules, and no wonder that you scour the cramp- 

* A girl. f Murder by night. J Liquor and food. 

S The leader (and greatest rogue) of the gang. || Stolen a ng. 



GUY MANNEKING. 187 

ring, and trine to the cheat * sae often. Yes, ye are a' altered 
— ^you'll eat the goodman*s meat, drink his drink, sleep on the 
fitrammel t in his bam, and break his house and cut his throat 
for his pains ! There's blood on your hands, too, ye dogs — 
mair than ever came there by Mr fighting. See how ye'll die 
then — ^lang it was ere he died — ^he strove, and strove sarr, and 
could neither die nor live ; — ^but you — ^half the country will see 
how ye'U grace the woodie." 

The party set up a hoarse laugh at Meg's prophecy. 

" What made you come back here, ye auld beldam 1" said one 
of the gipsies ; " could ye not have staid where you were, and 
spaed fortunes to the Cumberland flats?:}: — Bing out and tour,§ 
ye auld devil, and see that nobody has scented ; that's a' you're 
good for now." 

'' Is that a' I am good for now?" said the indignant matron. 
'^ I was good for mair than that in the great flght between our 
folk and Patrico Salmon's ; if I had not helped you with these 
very fambles (holding up her hands), Jean Baillie would have 
frammagem'd you,|| ye feckless do-little !" 

There was here another laugh, at the expense of the hero who 
had received this amazon's assistance. 

" Here, mother," said one of the sailors, " here's a cup of the 
right for you, and never mind that bully-huff." 

Meg drank the spirits, and, withdrawing herself from farther 
conversation, sat down before the spot where Brown lay hid, 
in such a posture that it would have been difficult for any one 
to have approached it without her rising. The men, however, 
showed no disposition to disturb her. 

They closed around the fire, and held deep consultation 
together ; but the low tone in which they spoke, and the cant 
language which they used, prevented Brown from understanding 
much of their conversation. He gathered in general, that they 
expressed great indignation against some individual. ''He 
shall have his gruel," said one, and then whispered something 
very low into the ear of his comrade. 

" I'll have nothing to do with that," said the other. 

" Are you turned hen-hearted. Jack?" 

" No, by Q— d, no more than yourself, — ^but I won't ; — it 

• G«t imprisoned and hanged. + Straw. t IFlats, galls. 

^ Go out and watch. i| Throttled yon 



188 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

was something like that stopped all the trade fifteen or twenty 
years ago — ^you have heard of the Loup 1" 

" I have heard kim (indicating the corpse by a jerk of his 
head) tell about that job. G — d, how he used to laugh when 
he showed us how he fetched him off the perch !" 

" WeU, but it did up the trade for one while," said Jack. 

" How should that be 1" asked the surly villain. 

" Why, replied Jack, " the people got rusty about it, and 
would not deal, and they had bought so many brooms* 
that " 

" Well, for all that," said the other, " I think we should be 
down upon the fellow one of these darkmans, and let him get 
it well" 

"But old Meg's asleep now," said another; "she grows a 
driveller, and is afraid of her shadow. She'll sing out,t some 
of these odd-come-shortlies, if you don't look sharp." 

" Never fear," said the old gipsy man ; " Meg's true bred ; 
she's the last in the gang that will start — ^but she has some 
queer ways, and often cuts queer words." 

With more of this gibberish, they continued the conversation, 
rendering it thus, even to each other, a dark obscure dialect, 
eiked out by significant nods and signs, but never expressing 
distinctly, or in plain language, the subject on which it turned. 
At length one of them, observing Meg was still fast asleep, or 
appeared to be so, desired one of the lads " to hand in the black 
Peter, that they might flick it open." The boy stepped to the 
door and brought in a portmanteau, which Brown instantly 
recognised for his own. His thoughts immediately turned to 
the unfortunate lad he had left with the carriage. Had the 
ruffians murdered him 1 was the horrible doubt that crossed his 
mind. The agony of his attention grew yet keener, and while 
the villains pulled out and admired the different articles of his 
clothes and linen, he eagerly listened for some indication that 
might Ultimate the fate of the postilion. But the ruffians were 
too much delighted with their prize, and too much busied in 
examining its contents, to enter into any detail concerning the 
manner in which they had acquired it. The portmanteau con- 
tained various articles of apparel, a pair of pistols, a leathern 

* Got 80 many warrants out. 

t To sing out, or whistle in the cage, is when a rogue, "being appre- 
hendecL peaches against his comrades. 



GUY MANNERING. 189 

case with a few papers, and some money, etc. etc. At any 
other time it would have provoked Brown excessively to see the 
unceremonious manner in which the thieves shared his property, 
and made themselves merry at the expense of the owner. But 
the moment was too perilous to admit any thoughts but what 
had immediate reference to self-preservation. 

After a sufficient scrutiny into the portmanteau, and an 
equitable division of its contents, the ruffians applied them- 
selves more closely to the serious occupation of drinking, in 
which they spent the greater part of the night. Brown was 
for some time in great hopes that they would drink so deep as 
to render themselves insensible, when his escape would have 
been an easy matter. But their dangerous trade required pre- 
cautions inconsistent with such unlimited indulgence, and they 
stopped short on this side of absolute intoxication. Three of 
them at length composed themselves to rest, while the fourth 
watched. He was relieved in this duty by one of the others, 
after a vigil of two hours. When the second watch had 
elapsed, the sentinel awakened the whole, who, to Brown's 
inexpressible relief, began to make some preparations as if foi 
departure, bundling up the various articles which each had 
appropriated. Still, however, there remained something to be 
done. Two of them, after some rummaging, which not a little 
alarmed Brown, produced a mattock and shovel ; another took 
a pick-axe from behind the straw on which the dead body was 
extended. With these implements two of them left the hut, 
and the remaining three, two of whom were the seamen, very 
strong men, still remained in garrison. 

After the space of about half-an-hour, one of those who had 
departed again returned, and whispered the others. They 
wrapped up the dead body in the sea-cloak which had served as 
a pall, and went out, bearing it along with them. The aged 
sibyl then rose from her real or feigned slumbers. She first 
went to the door, as if for the purpose of watching the departure 
of her late inmates, then returned, and commanded Brown, in a 
low and stifled voice, to follow her instantly. He obeyed ; but 
on leaving the hut he would willingly have repossessed himself 
of his money, or papers at least ; but this she prohibited in the 
most peremptory manner. It immediately occurred to him that 
the suspicion of having removed anything, of which he might 
repossess himself, would fall upon this woman, by whom, in all 



190 WAVEELEY NOVELS. 

probability, his life had been saved. He therefore immediately 
desisted &om his attempt, contenting himself with seizing a 
cutlass, which one of the ruffians had flung aside among the 
straw. On his feet, and possessed of this weapon, he abready 
found himself half delivered from the dangers which beset him. 
Still, however, he felt stiffened and cramped, both with the cold, 
and by the constrained and unaltered position which he had 
occupied all night. But as he followed the gipsy from the door 
of the hut, the fresh air of the morning, and the action of walk- 
ing, restored circulation and activity to his benumbed limbs. 

The pale light of a winter's morning was rendered more dear 
by the snow, which wa^ lying all around, crisped by the influence 
of a severe frost. Brown cast a hasty glance at the landscape 
around him, that he might be able again to know the spot. 
The little tower, of which only a single vault remained, forming 
the dismal apartment in which he had spent this remarkable 
night, was perched on the very point of a projecting rock over- 
hanging the rivulet. It was accessible only on one side, and 
that from the ravine or glen below. On the other three sides 
the bank was precipitous, so that Brown had on the preceding 
evening escaped more dangers than one 3 for if he had attempted 
to go round the building, which was once his purpose, he must 
have been dashed to pieces. The dell was so nairow, that the 
trees met in some places from the opposite sides. They were 
now loaded with snow instead of leaves, and thus formed a sort 
of frozen canopy over the rivulet beneath, which was marked by 
its darker colour, as it soaked its way obscurely through wreaths 
of snow. In one place, where the glen was a little wider, leav- 
ing a small piece of flat ground between the rivulet and the 
bank, were situated the ruins of the hamlet in which Brown 
had been involved on the preceding evening. The ruined gables, 
the insides of which were japanned with turf-smoke, looked yet 
blacker, contrasted with the patches of snow which had been 
driven against them by the wind, and with the drifts which lay 
around them. 

Upon this wintry and dismal scene, Brown could only at 
present cast a very hasty glance ; for his guide, after pausing an 
instant, as if to permit him to indulge his curiosity, strode 
hastily before him down the path which led into the glen. He 
observed, with some feelings of suspicion, that she chose a track 
already marked by several feet, which he could only suppose 



OUY MANNERING. 191 

were those of the depredators who had spent the night in the 
vault. A moment's recollection, however, put his suspicions to 
rest. It was not to be thought that the woman, who might 
have delivered him up to her gang when in a state totally de- 
fenceless, would have suspended her supposed treacheiy until 
he was armed, and in the open air, and had so many better 
chances of defence or escape. He therefore followed his guide 
in conj&dence and silence. They crossed the small brook at the 
same place where it previously had been passed by those who 
had gone before. The foot-marks then proceeded through the 
ruined village, and from thence down the glen, which again 
narrowed to a ravine, after the small opening in which they 
were situated. But the gipsy no longer followed the same 
track ;-«-«he turned aside, and led the way, by a very rugged and 
uneven path, up the bank which overhung the village. Although 
the snow in many places hid the path-way, and rendered the 
footing uncertain and unsafe, Meg proceeded with a firm and 
determined step, which indicated an intimate knowledge of the 
ground she traversed. At length they gained the top of the 
bank, though by a passage so steep and intricate that Brown, 
though convinced it was the same by which he had descended 
on the night before, was not a little surprised how he had 
accomplished the task without breaking his neck. Above, the. 
country opened wide and unenclosed for about a mile or two on 
the one hand, and on the other were thick plantations of con- 
siderable extent. 

Meg, however, still led the way along the bank of the ravine 
out of which they had ascended, until she heard beneath the 
murmur of voices. She then pointed to a deep plantation of 
trees at some distance. — '^The road to Kippletringan,'' she 
said, '' is on the other side of these enclosures. — ^Make the speed 
ye can ; there's mair rests on your life than other folk's. — But 
you have lost all — stay." She fumbled in an immense pocket, 
from which she produced a greasy purse. — " Many's the cmmofua 
your house has gi'en Meg and hers — ^and she has lived to pay it 
back in a small degree f — and she placed the purse in his h^d. 

'^ The woman is insane," thought Brown ; but it was no time 
to debate the point, for the sounds he heard in the ravine below 
probably proceeded from the banditti. ^'How shall I repay 
this money," he said, '^ or how acknowledge the kindness you 
have done mel" 



192 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

" I hae twa boons to crave," answered the sibyl, speaking low 
and hastily : " one, that you will never speak of what you have 
seen this night ; the other, that you will not leave this country 
till you see me again — and that you leave word at the (Jordon- 
Arms where you are to be heard of ; and wheji I next call for 
you — ^be it in church or market, at wedding or at burial, Sunday 
or Saturday, meal-time or fasting — ^that ye leave everything else 
and come with me." 

" Why, that will do you little good, mother." 

" But 'twill do yoursell muckle, and that's what I'm thinking 
o\ I am not mad, although I have had enough to make me 
sae — ^I am not mad, nor doating, nor drunken — I know what I 
am asking, and I Iniow it has been the will of God to preserve 
you in strange dangers, and that I shall be the instrument to set 
you in your father's seat, again. — Sae give me your promise, and 
mind that you owe your life to me this blessed night." 

" There's wildness in her manner, certainly," thought Brown, 
— "and yet it is more like the wildness of energy than oif 

madness. ^WeU, mother, since you do ask so useless and 

trifling a favour, you have my promise. It will at least give 
me an opportunity to repay your money with additions. You 
are an uncommon kind of creditor, no doubt, but" — 

"Away, away, then!" said she waving her hand. "Think 
not about the goud — ^it's a' your ain ; but remember your pro- 
mise, and do not dare to follow me or look after me." So saying, 
she plunged again into the dell, and descended it with great 
agiHty, the icicles and snow wreaths showering down after her 
as she disappeared. 

Notwithstanding her prohibition. Brown endeavoured to gain 
some point of the bank from which he might, unseen, gaze down 
into the glen ; and with some difficulty (for it must be conceived 
that the utmost caution was necessary) he succeeded. The spot 
which he attained for this purpose was the point of a projecting 
rock, which rose precipitously from among the trees. By 
knecQing down among the snow, and stretching his head 
cautiously forward, he could observe what was going on in the 
bottom of the deU. He saw, as he expected, his companions of 
the last night, now joined by two or three others. They had 
cleared away the snow from the foot of the rock, and dug a deep 
pit, which was designed to serve the purpose of a grave. Around 
this they now stood, and lowered into it something wrapped in 



OUT MAKNERING. 193 

ft naval cloak, which Brown instantly concluded to be the dead 
body of the man he had seen expire. They then stood silent 
for half a minute, as if under some touch of feeling for the loss 
of their companion. But if they experienced such, they did not 
long remain under its influence, for all hands went presently to 
work to fill up the grave ; and Brown, perceiving that the task 
would be soon ended, thought it best to take the gipsy-woman's 
hint, and walk as fast as possible until he should gain the shelter 
of the plantation. 

Having arrived under cover of the trees, his first thought was 
of the gipsy's purse. He had accepted it without hesitation, 
though with something Hke a feeling of degradation, arising 
from the character of the person by whom he was thus accom- 
modated. But it relieved him from a serious, though temporary, 
embarrassment. His money, excepting a very few shillings, was 
in his portmanteau, and that was in possession of Meg's friends. 
Some time was necessary to write to his agent, or even to apply 
to his good host, at Oharlies-hope, who would gladly have 
supplied him. In the meantime, he resolved to avail himself 
of Meg's subsidy, confident that he should have a speedy 
opportunity of replacing it with a handsome gratuity. " It can 
be but a trifling sum," he said to himself, " and I dare say 
the good lady may have a share of my bank-notes to make 
amends." 

With these reflections he opened the leathern-purse, expecting 
to find at most three or four guineas. But how much was he 
surprised to discover that it contained, besides a considerable 
quantity of gold pieces, of diflerent coinages and various 
countries, the joint amount of which could not be short of 
a hundred pounds, several valuable rings and ornaments set 
with jewels, and, as appeared from the slight inspection he had 
time to give them, of very considerable value. 

Brown was equally astonished and embarrassed by the dr- 
Gumstances in which he found himself, possessed, as he now 
appeared to be, of property to a much greater amount than his 
own, but which had been obtained in all probability by the same 
nefarious means through which he had himself been plundered. 
His first thought was to inquire after the nearest justice of 
peace, and to place in his hands the treasure of which he had 
thus unexpectedly become the depositary, telling, at the same 
time, his own remarkable story. But a moment's consideratioTi 

VOL. IT o 



194 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

brought several objections to this mode of procedure. In the 
first place, by observing this course, he should break his promise 
of silence, and might probably by that means involve the safety, 
perhaps the life, of this woman, who had risked her own to 
preserve his, and who had voluntarily endowed him with this 
treasure, — ^a generosity which might thus become the means of 
her ruin. This was not to be thought of. Besides, he was a 
stranger, and, for a time at least, unprovided with means of 
establishing his own character and credit to the satisfaction of a 
stupid or obstinate country magistrate. " I will think over the 
matter more maturely," he said: "perhaps there may be a 
regiment quartered at the country-town, in which case my 
knowledge of the service, and acquaintance with many officers 
of the army, cannot fail to establish my situation and character 
by evidence which a civil judge could not sufficiently estimate. 
And then I shall have the commanding-officer's assistance in 
managing matters so as to screen this unhappy mad woman, 
whose mistake or prejudice has been so fortunate for me. A 
civil magistrate might think himself obliged to send out warrants 
for her at once, and the consequence, in case of her being taken, 
is pretty evident. No, she has been upon honour with me if 
she were the devil, and I will be equally upon honour with her 
—she shall have the privilege of a court-martial, where the point 
of honour can qualify strict law. Besides, I may see her at this 
place, Kipple — Couple — ^what did she call it ! and then I can 
make restitution to her, and e'en let the law claim its own when 
it can secure her. In the meanwhile, however, I cut rather 
an awkward figure for one who has the honour to bear his 
Majesty's commission, being little better than the receiver of 
stolen goods." 

With these reflections. Brown took from the gipsy's treasure 
three or four guineas, for the purpose of his immediate expenses, 
and tying up the rest in the purse which contained them, 
resolved not again to open it, until he could either restore it to 
her by whom it was given, or put it into the hands of some 
public functionary. He next thought of the cutlass, and his 
first impulse was to leave it in the plantation. But when he 
considered the risk of meeting with these ruffians, he could not 
resolve on parting with his arms. His waDdng-dress, though 
plain, had so much of a military character as suited not amiss 
with his having such a weapon. Besides, though the custom of 



GUY MANNERING. 195 

wearing swords by persons out of uniform had been gradually 
becoming antiquated, it was not yet so totally forgotten as to 
occasion any particular remark towards those who chose to 
adhere to it. Eetaining, therefore, his weapon of defence, and 
placing the purse of the gipsy in a private pocket, our traveller 
strode gallantly on through the wood in search of the promised 
high road. 



CHAPTER TWENTY-NINTH. 

All school-day's friendship, childhood innocence ! 
We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, 
Have with our needles created both one flower, 
Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion. 
Both warbling of one song, both in one key. 
As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds. 
Had been incorporate. 

MmsuMMER Night's Dream. 



JULIA MANNERING TO MATILDA MAECHMONT. 

" How can you upbraid me, my dearest Matilda, with abatement 
in friendship, or fluctuation in affection ) Is it possible for me 
to forget that you are the chosen of my heart, in whose faithful 
bosom I have deposited every feeling which your poor Julia 
dares to acknowledge to herself? And you do me equal in- 
justice in upbraiding me with exchanging your Mendship for 
that of Lucy Bertram. I assure you she has not the materials 
I must seek for in a bosom confidante. She is a charming girl, 
to be sure, and I like her very much, and I confess our forenoon 
and evening engagements have left me less time for the exercise 
of my pen than our proposed regularity of correspondence de- 
mands. But she is totally devoid of elegant accomplishments, 
excepting the knowledge of French and Italian, which she 
acquired from the most grotesque monster you ever beheld, 
whom my father has engaged as a kind of librarian, and whom 
he patronizes, I believe to show his defiance of the world's 
opinion. Colonel Mannering seems to have formed a determi- 
nation, that nothing shall be considered as ridiculous, so long 
as it appertains to or is connected with him. I remember is 
India he had picked up somewhere a little mongrel cur, with 



196 WAVERLEY NOVELS, 

bandy legs, a long back, and huge flapping ears. Of thu 
onoouth creature he chose to make a favourite, in despite of all 
tafite and opinion; and I remember one instance which he 
alleged, of what he called Brown's petulance, waa, that he had 
criticised severely the crooked legs and drooping ears of Bingo. 
On my word, Matilda, I believe he nurses his high opinion of 
this most awkward of all pedants upon a similar principle. He 
seats the creature at table, where he pronounces a grace that 
sounds like the scream of the man in the square that used to 
cry mackerel, — ^flings his meat down his throat by shovelfuls, 
Uke a dustman loading his cart, and apparently without the 
most distant perception of what he is swallowing, — ^then bleats 
forth another unnatural set of tones, by way of returning thanks, 
stalks out of the room, and immerses himself among a parcel 
of huge worm-eaten folios that are as imcouth as himself ! I 
could endure the creature well enough, had I anybody to laugh 
at him along with me ; but Lucy Bertram, if I but verge on 
the border of a jest affecting this same Mr. Sampson (such is 
the horrid man's horrid name), looks so piteous, that it deprives 
me of all spirit to proceed, and my father knita his larow, flashes 
fire from his eye, bites his lip, and says something that is ex- 
tremely rude, and uncomfortable to my feelings. 

" It waa not of this creature, however, that I meant to speak 
to you — only that, being a good scholar in the modem, as well 
as the ancient languages, he has contrived to make Lucy 
Bertram mistress of the former, and she has only, I believe, to 
thank her own good sense or obstinacy, that the Greek, Latin 
(and Hebrew, for aught I know), were not added to her 
acquisitions. And thus she reaUy has a great fond of informar 
tion, and I assure you I am daily surprised at the power which 
she seems to possess of amusing herself by recalling and arranging 
the subjects of her former reading. We read together every 
morning, and I begin to like Italian much better than when we 
were teaaed by that conceited animal Gicipici ; — ^this is the way 
to spell his name, and not Chichipichi — you see I grow a 
connoisseur. 

^* But perhaps I like Miss Bertram more for the accomplish- 
ments she wants, than for the knowledge she possesses. She 
knows nothing of music whatever, and no more of dancing than 
is here common to the meanest peasants, — ^who, by the way, 
dance with great zeal and spirit. So that I am instructor in 



GUY MANNERING. 197 

my turn, and she takes with great gratitude lossons from me 
upon the harpsichord, and I have even taught her some of 
La IMque's steps, and you know he thought me a promising 
scholar. 

'^ In the evening, papa often reads, and I assure you he is the 
best reader of poetry you ever heard — ^not like that actor, who 
made a kind of jumble between reading and acting, staring, and 
bending his brow, and twisting his face, and gesticulating as if 
he were on the stage, and dressed out in all his costume. My 
father's manner is quite differenl^it is the reading of a gentle- 
man, who produces effect by feeling, taste, and inflection of 
voice, not by action or mmnmery. Lucy Bertram rides remark- 
ably well, and I can now accompany her on horseback, having 
become emboldened by example. We walk also a good deal in 
spite of the cold. So, upon the whole, I have not quite so much 
time for writing as I used to have. 

*^ Besides, my love, I must really use the apology of all stupid 
correspondents, that I have nothing to say. My hopes, my 
fears, my anxieties about Brown, are of a less interesting cast, 
since I know that he is at liberty, and in health. Besides, I 
must own, I think that by this time the gentleman might have 
given me some intimation what he was doing. Our intercourse 
may be an imprudent one, but it is not very complimentary to 
me, that Mr. Vanbeest Brown should be the first to discover 
that such is the case, and to break off in consequence. I can 
promise him that we might not differ much in opinion should 
that happen to be his, for I have sometimes thought I have 
behaved extremely foolishly in that matter. Yet I have so 
good, an opinion of poor Brown, that I cannot but think there is 
something extraordinary in his sHence. 

" To return to Lucy Bertram. — No, my dearest Matilda, she 
can never, never rival you in my regard, so that all your affec- 
tionate jealousy on that account is without foundation. She is, 
to be sure, a very pretty, a very sensible, a very affectionate girl, 
and I think there are few persons to whose consolatory friend- 
ship I could have recourse more freely in what are called the 
real evih of life. But then these so seldom come in one's way, 
and one wants a friend who wiU sympathize with distresses of 
sentiment, as well as with actual misfortune. Heaven knows, 
and you know, my dearest Matilda, that these diseases of the 
heart require the bahn of sympathy and affection, as much ae 



198 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

the evils of a more obvious and determinate character. Now 
Lucy Bertram has nothing of this kindly sympathy — ^nothing 
at all, my dearest Matilda. Were I sick of a fever, she would 
sit up night after night to nurse me with the most unrepining 
patience ; but with the fever of the heart, which my Matilda 
has soothed so often, she has no more sympathy than her old 
tutor. And yet what provokes me is, that the demure monkey 
actually has a lover of her own, and that their mutual affection 
(for mutual I take it to be) has a great deal of complicated and 
romantic interest. She was once, you must know, a great heiress, 
but was ruined by the prodigality of her father, and the viUany 
of a horrid man in whom he confided. And one of the hand- 
somest young gentlemen in the coimtiy is attached to her ; but 
as he is heir to a great estate, she discourages his addresses on 
account of the disproportion of their fortune. 

" But with aU this moderation, and self-denial, and modesty, 
and so forth, Lucy is a sly girl — I am sure she loves young 
Hazlewood, and I am sure he has some guess of that, and 
would probably bring her to acknowledge it too, if my father 
or she would allow him an opportunity. But you must know 
the Colonel is always himself in the way to pay Miss Bertram 
those attentions which afford the best indirect opportunities for 
a young gentleman in Hazlewood's situation. I would have 
my good papa take care that he does not himself pay the usual 
penalty of meddling folks. I assure you, if I were Hazlewood, 
I should look on his compliments. Ids bowings, his cloakings, 
his shawlings, and his handings, with some little suspicion — 
and truly I think Hazlewood does so too at some odd times. 
Then imagine what a silly figure your poor Julia makes on 
such occasions ! Here is my father making the agreeable to my 
&iend ; there is young Hazlewood watching every word of her 
lips, and every motion of her eye; and I have not the poor 
satisfaction of interesting a human being — ^not even the exotic 
monster of a parson, for even he sits with his mouth open, and 
his huge round goggling eyes fixed like those of a statue, 
admiring Mess Baartram ! 

''All this makes me sometimes a little nervous, and some- 
times a little mischievous. I was so provoked at my father and 
the lovers the other day for turning me completely out of their 
thoughts and society, that I began an attack upon Hazlewood, 
from which it was impossible for him, in common civility, to 



GUY MANNERING. 199 

escape. He inseiudbly became warm in his defence. — I assure 
you, Matilda, he is a very clever, as well as a very handsome 
young man, and I don't think I ever remember having seen 
him to the same advantage — ^when, behold, in the midst of our 
lively conversation, a very soft sigh from Miss Lucy reached my 
not ungratified ears. I was greatly too generous to prosecute 
my victory any farther, even if I had not been afraid of papa. 
Luckily for me, he had at that moment got into a long descrip- 
tion of the peculiar notions and manners of a certain tribe of 
Lidians, who live far up the country, and was illustrating them 
by making drawings on Miss Bertram's work-patterns, three of 
which he utterly damaged, by introducing among the intrica- 
cies of the pattern his specimens of Oriental costume. But I 
believe she thought as little of her own gown at the moment 
as of the India turbands and cummerbands. However, it was 
quite as well for me that he did not see aU the merit of my 
little manoeuvre, for he is as sharp-sighted as a hawk, and a sworn 
enemy to the slightest shade of coquetry. 

"Well, Matilda, — Hazlewood heard this same half-audible 
sigh, and instantly repented his temporary attentions to such 
an unworthy object as your Julia, and, with a very comical 
expression of consciousness, drew near to Lucy's work-table. 
He made some trifling observation, and her reply was one in 
which nothing but an ear as acute as that of a lover, or a curious 
observer like myself, could have distinguished anything more 
cold and dry than usual. But it conveyed reproof to the self- 
accusing hero, and he stood abashed accordingly. You will 
admit that I was called upon in generosity to act as mediator. 
So I mingled in the conversation, in the quiet tone of an un- 
observing and uninterested third party, led them into their 
former habits of easy chat, and, after having served awhile 
as the channel of commimication through which they chose to 
address each other, set them down to a pensive game at chess, 
and very dutifully went to tease papa, who was still busied 
with his drawings. The chess-players, you must observe, were 
placed near the chimney, beside a little work-table, which 
held the board and men — ^the Colonel at some distance, with 
lights upon a library table, — ^for it is a large old-fashioned 
room, with several recesses, and hung with grim tapestry, 
representing what it might have puzzled the artist himself to 
"explain. 



200 WAVERLBY NOVELS. 

*' ' Is chess a very interesting game, papa V 

" ' I am told so/ without honouring me with much uf his 
notice. 

^' ^ I should think so, from the attention Mr. Hazlewood and 
Lucy are bestowing on it.' 

'^ He raised his head hastily, and held his pencil suspended 
for an instant. Apparently he saw nothing that excited his 
suspicions, for he was resuming the folds of a Mahratta's turban 
in tranquillity, when I interrupted him with — ' How old is Miss 
Bertram, sirT 

" * How should I know, Miss ? about your own age, I 
suppose.' 

" ' Older, I should think, sir. You are always telling me how 
much more decorously she goes through all the honours of the 
tea-table. — ^Lord, papa, what if you should give her a right to 
preside once and for ever V 

" * Julia, my dear,' returned papa, ' you are either a fool out- 
right, or you are more disposed to make mischief than I have 
yet believed you.* 

"'0, my dear, sir! put your best construction upon it — I 
would not be thought a fool foi: all the world.' 

" * Then why do you talk like one V said my father. 

'> * Lord, sir, I am sure there is nothing so foolish in what I 
said just now. Everybody knows you are a very handsome 
man ' (a smile was just visible), * that is, for your time of life' 
(the dawn was overcast), ' which is far from being advanced, 
and I am sure I don't know why you should not please yourself, 
if you have a mind. I am sensible I am but a thoughtless giri, 
and if a graver companion could render you more happy ' 

" There was a mixture of displeasure and grave affection in 
the manner in which my father took my hand, that was a severe 
reproof to me for trifling with his feelings. * Julia,' he said, 
* I bear with much of your petulance, because I think I have 
in some degree deserved it, by neglecting to superintend your 
education sufficiently closely. Yet I would not have you give 
it the rein upon a subject so delicate. If you do not respect 
the feelings of your surviving parent towards the memory of 
her whom you have lost, attend at least to the sacred claims of 
misfortune ; and observe, that the slightest hint of such a jest 
reaching Miss Bertram's ears, would at once induce her to 



i 



GUY MANNERING. 201 

renounoe her present asylum, and go forth, without a protector, 
mto a world she has already felt so unfriendly.' 

" What could I say to this, Matilda ? — ^I only cried heartily, 
begged pardon, and promicted to be a good girl ia future. And 
so here am I neutralised again; for I cannot, in honour, or 
oonmion good nature, tease poor Lucy by interfering with 
Hazlewood, although she has so little confidence in me; and 
neither can I, after this grave appeal, venture again upon such 
delicate ground with papa. So I bum little rolls of paper, and 
sketch Turks' heads upon visiting cards with the blackened end, 
— I assure you, I succeeded in making a superb Hyder-Ally last 
night — and I jingle on my unfortunate harpsichord, and begin 
at the end of a grave book and read it backward. — ^After all, I 
begin to be very nmch vexed about Brown's silence. Had he 
been obliged to leave the country, I am sure he would at least 
have written to me. — Is it possible that my father can have 
intercepted his letters) But no — ^that is contrary to all his 
principles — I don't think he would open a letter addressed to 
me to-night, to prevent my jumping out of window to-morrow. 
— What an expression I have suffered to escape my .pen ! I 
should be ashamed of it, even to you, Matilda, and used in jest. 
But I need not take much merit for acting as I ought to do. 
This same Mr. Vanbeest Brown is by no means so very ardent 
a lover as to hurry the object of his attachment into such 
inconsiderate steps. He gives one fuU time to reflect, that 
must be admitted. However, I will not blame him unheard, 
nor permit myself, to doubt the manly firmness of a character 
which I have so often extolled to you. Were he capable of 
doubt, of fear, of the shadow of change, I should have little to 
regret. 

''And why, you will say, when I expect such steady and 
unalterable constancy from a lover, why should I be anxious 
about what Hazlewood does, or to whom he offers his atten- 
tions 1 — I ask myself the question a hundred times a-day, and 
it only receives the very siUy answer, — ^that one does not like 
to be neglected, though one would not encourage a serious 
infidelity. 

" I write all these trifles, because you say that they amuse 
you, and yet I wonder how they should. I remember, in our 
stolen voyages to the world of fiction, you always admired the 
grand and the romantic — tales of knights, dwarfs, giants, and 



202 WAVERLEi; NOVELS. 

distressed damsels, soothsayers, visions, beckoning ghosts, and 
bloody hands,— whereas I was partial to the involved intrigues 
of private life, or at farthest, to so much only of the super- 
natural as is conferred by the agency of an Eastern genie or a 
beneficent fairy. You would have loved to shape your course 
of life over the broad ocean, with its dead calms and howling 
tempests, its tornadoes, and its billows mountain-high, — 
whereas I should like to trim my little pinnace to a brisk 
breeze in some inland lake or tranquil bay, where there was 
just difficulty of navigation sufficient to give interest and to 
require skill, without any sensible degree of danger. So that, 
upon the whole, Matilda, I think you should have had my 
father, with his pride of arms and of ancestry, his chivalrous 
point of honour, his high talents, and his abstruse and mystic 
studies; — ^you should have had Lucy Bertram, too, for your 
friend, whose fathers, with names which alike defy memory and 
orthography, ruled over this romantic country, and whose birth 
took place, as I have been indistinctly informed, under circum- 
stances of deep and peculiar interest ; — ^you should have had, 
too, our. Scottish residence, surrounded by mountains, and our 
lonely walks to haunted ruins. And I should have had, in 
exchange, the lawns and shrubs, and green-houses, and con- 
servatories, of Pine-park, with your good, quiet, indulgent aunt, 
her chapel in the morning, her nap after dinner, her hand at 
whist in the evening, not forgetting her fat coach-horses and 
fatter coachman. Take notice, however, that Brown is not 
included in this proposed barter of mine; — ^his good-humour, 
lively conversation, and open gallantry, suit my plan of life, as 
well as his athletic form, handsome features, and high spirit, 
would accord with a character of chivahy. So, as we cannot 
change altogether out and out I think we must e'en abide as 
we are." 



GUY MANNEBIllG. 203 



OHAPl'EK THIKTIETH. 

Aenoimce your defiance ; if you parley so roughly, 

m barricado my gates against you. — ^Do you see yon bay window ? 

Storm — I care not, serying the good Duke of Norfolk. 

Mebbt Devil of Edmonton. 



JULIA MANNESINO TO MATILDA MAKCHMONT. 

** I Biss from a sick-bed, my deaxest Matilda, to communicate 
the strange and frightful scenes which have just passed. Alas, 
how little we ought to jest with futurity ! I closed my letter to 
you in high spirits, with some flippant remarks on your taste 
for the romantic and extraordinary in fictitious narrative. How 
little I expected to have had such events to record in the course 
of a few days ! And to witness scenes of terror, or to contem- 
plate them in description, is as different, my dearest Matilda, as 
to bend over the brink of a precipice holding by the frail tenure 
of a half-rooted shrub, or to admire the same precipice as repre- o 
sented in the landscape of Salvator. But I will not anticipate 
my narrative. 

" The first part of my stoiy is frightfril enough, though it 
had nothing to interest my feelings. You must know that this 
country is particularly favourable to the commerce of a set of 
desperate men from the Isle of Man, which' is nearly opposite. 
These smugglers are numerous, resolute, and formidable, and 
have at different times become the dread of the neighbourhood 
when any one has interfered with their contraband trade. The 
local magistrates, from timidity or worse motives, have become 
shy of acting against them, and impunity has rendered them 
equally daring and desperate. With all this, my Mher, a 
stranger in the land, and invested with no official authority, 
had, one would think, nothing to do. But it must be owned, 
that, as he himself expresses it, he was bom when Mars was 
lord of his ascendant, and that strife and bloodshed find him out 
in circumstances and situations the most retired and pacific. 

" About eleven o'clock on last Tuesday morning, while Hazle- 
wood and my father were proposing to walk to a little lake 
about three miles' distance, for the purpose of shooting wild 



204 WAVERfiEY NOVELS. 

ducks, and while Lucy and I were busied with arranging our 
plan of work and study for the day, we were alarmed by the 
sound of horses' feet, advancing very fast up the avenue. The 
ground was hardened by a severe frost, which made the clatter 
of the hoofs sound yet louder and sharper. In a moment two 
or three' men armed, mounted, and each leading a spare horse 
loaded with packages, appeared on the lawn, and without keep- 
ing upon the road, which makes a small sweep, pushed right 
across for the door of the house. Their appearance was in the 
utmost degree hurried and disordered, and they frequently looked 
back like men who apprehended a close and deadly pursuit. My 
father and Hazlewood hurried to the front door to demand who 
they were, and what was their business. They were revenue 
officers, they stated, who had seized these horses, loaded with 
contraband articles, at a place about three miles off. But the 
smugglers had been reinforced, and were now pursuing them 
with the avowed purpose of recovering the goods, and putting 
to death the officers who had presumed to do their duty. The 
men said, that their horses being loaded, and the pursuers 
gaining ground upon them, they had fled to Woodboume, con- 
ceiving, that as my father had served the king, he would not 
refuse to protect the servants of Government, when threatened 
to be murdered in the discharge of their duty. 

" My father, to whom, in his enthusiastic feelings of military 
loyalty, even a dog would be of importance if he came in the 
king's name, gave prompt orders for securing the goods in the 
haU, arming the servants, and defending the house in case it 
should be necessary. Hazlewood seconded him with great 
spirit, and even the strange animal they call Sampson stalked 
out of his den, and seized upon a fowling-piece, which my father 
had laid aside to take what they call a rifle-gun, with which 
they shoot tigers, etc., in the East. The piece went off in the 
awkward hands of the poor parson, and very nearly shot one of 
the excisemen. At this unexpected and involuntary explosion 
of his weapon, the Dominie (such is his nickname) exclaimed. 
* Prodigious ! ' which is his usual ejaculation when astonished. 
But no power could force the man to part with his discharged 
piece, so they were content to let him retain it, with the pre- 
caution of trusting him with no ammunition. This (excepting 
the alarm occasioned by the report) escaped my notice at the 
time, you may easily believe; but in talking over the scene 



GOT MANNERING. 206 

affcenrards, Hazlewood made ub very merry with the Dominie's 
ignorant but zealous valour. 

" When my father had got everything into proper order for 
defence, and the people stationed at the windows with their 
fire-arms, he wanted to order us out of danger — ^into the cellar, 
I believe — ^but we could not be prevailed upon to stir. Though 
terrified to death, I have so much of his own spirit, that I / 
woidd look upon the peril which threatens us, rather than hear 
it rage around me without knowing its nature or its progress. 
Lucy, looking aa pale as a marble statue, and keeping her eyes 
fixed on Hazlewood, seemed not even to hear the prayers with 
which he conjured her to leave the front of the house. But, in 
truth, unless the hall door should be forced, we were in little 
danger — ^the windows being ahnost blocked up with cushions 
and pillows, and, what the Dominie most lamented, with folio 
volumes, brought hastily from the library, leaving ordy spaces 
through which the defenders might fire upon the assailants. 

'' My father had now made his dispositions, and we sat in 
breathless expectation in the darkened apartment, the men 
remaining all silent upon their posts, in anxious contemplation 
probably of the approaching danger. My father, who was quite 
at home in such a scene, walked &om one to another, and 
reiterated his orders, that no one should presume to fire imtO 
he gave the word. Hazlewood, who seemed to catch courage 
from his eye, acted as his aide-de-camp, and displayed the 
utmost alertness in bearing his directions from one place to 
another, and seeing them properly carried into execution. Our 
force, with the strangers included, might amount to about 
twelve men. 

" At length the silence of this awfiil period of expectation 
was broken by a sound, which, at a distance, was like the rush- 
ing of a stream of water, but, as it approached, we distinguished 
the thick-beating clang of a number of horses advancing very 
fast. I had arranged a loophole for myself, from which I could 
see the approach of the enemy. The noise increased and came 
nearer, and at length thirty horsemen and more rushed at once 
upon the lawn. You never saw such horrid wretches ! Not- 
withstanding the severity of the season, they were most of them 
stripped to their shirts and trowsers, with silk handkerchiefs 
knotted about their heads, and aU well armed with carbines, 
pistols, and cutlasses. I, who am a soldier's daughter and 



v/ 



206 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

accustomed to see war from my infancy, was never so terrified 
in my life as by the savage appearance of these ruffians, their 
horses reeking with the speed at which they had ridden, and 
their furious exclamations of rage and disappointment when they 
saw themselves baulked of their prey. They paused, however, 
when they saw the preparations made to receive them, and 
appeared to hold a moment's consultation among themselves. 
At length, one of the party, his face blackened with gunpowder 
by way of disguise, came forward with a white handkerchief on 
the end of his carbine, and SAked to speak with Colonel Manner- 
ing. My father, to my infinite terror, threw open a window 
near which he was posted, and demanded what he wanted. 

* We want our goods, which we have been robbed of by these 
sharks,' said the fellow ; ' and our lieutenant bids me say, that 
if they are delivered, we'U go off for this bout without clearing 
scores with the rascals who took them ; but if not, we'U bum 
the house, and have the heart's blood of every one in it ;' — ^a 
threat which he repeated more than once, graced by a fresh 
variety of imprecations, and the most horrid denunciations that 
cruelty could suggest. 

" * And which is your lieutenant V said my father in reply. 
" ' That gentleman on the grey horse,' said the miscreant, 

* with the red handkerchief bound about his brow.' 

'^ ' Then be pleased to tell that gentleman, that if he, and the 
scoundrels who are with him, do not ride off the lawn this 
instant, I will fire upon them without ceremony.' So saying, 
my father shut the window, and broke short the conference. 

" The fellow no sooner regained his troop, than, with a loud 
hurra, or rather a savage yeU, they fired a volley against our 
garrison. The glass of the windows was shattered in every 
direction, but the precautions already noticed saved the party 
within from suffering. Three such volleys were fired without 
a shot being returned from within. My father then observed 
them getting hatchets and crows, probably to assail the hal] 
door, and called aloud, * Let none fire but Hazlewood and me — 
Hazlewood, mark the ambassador !' He himself aimed at the 
man on the grey horse, who feU on receiving his shot. Hazle- 
wood was equally successftd. He shot the spokesman, who had 
dismounted, and was advancing with an axe in his hand. Their 
fall discouraged the rest, who began to turn round their horses : 
and a few shots fired at them soon sent them off, bearing alonf? 



GUY MANNERING. 207 

with them their slain or wounded companions. We oould not 
obsenre that they suffered any farther loss. Shortly after their 
retreat, a party of soldiers made their appearance, to my infinite 
relief. These men were quartered at a village some miles 
distant, and had marched on the first rumour of the skirmish. 
A part of them escorted the terrified revenue officers and their 
seizure to a neighbouring seaport as a place of safety, and at 
my earnest request two or three files remained with us for that 
and the following day, for the security of the house from the 
vengeance of these banditti. 

''Such, dearest Matilda, was my first alarm. I must not 
forget to add, that the ruffians left, at a cottage on the road-side, 
the man whose face was blackened with powder, apparently 
because he was unable to bear transportation. He died in about 
half an hour after. On examining the corpse, it proved to be 
that of a profligate boor in the neighbourhood, a person notorious 
as a poacher and smuggler. We received many messages* of 
congratulation from the neighbouring families, and it was 
generally allowed that a few such instances of spirited resist- 
ance would greatly check the presumption of these lawless men. 
My father distributed rewards among his servants, and praised 
Hazlewood's courage and coolness to the skies. Lucy and I 
came in for a share of his applause, because we had stood fire 
with firmness, and had not disturbed him with screams or 
expostulations. As for the Dominie, my father took an oppor- 
tunity of beggmg to exchange snuff-boxes with him. The honest 
gentleman was much flattered with the proposal, and extoUed 
the beauty of his new snuff-box excessively. * It looked,' he said 
* as well as if it were real gold from Ophir.' Indeed it would be 
odd if it should not, being formed in fact of that very metal ; 
but, to do this honest creature justice, I believe the knowledge 
of its real value would not enhance his sense of my father's 
kindness, supposing it, as he does, to be pinchbeck gUded. He 
has had a hard task replacing the folios which were used in the 
barricade, smoothing out the creases and dogs-ears, and repairing 
the other disasters they have sustained during their service in 
the fortification. He brought us some pieces of lead and bullets, 
which these ponderous tomes had intercepted during the action, 
and which he had extracted with great care ; and, were I in 
spirits, I coidd give you a comic account of his astonishment at 
the apathy with which we heard of the wounds and mutilation 



208 WAVEELEY NOVELS. 

suffered by Thomafl Aquinas, or the venerable Ohrysostom. 
But I am not in spirits, and I have yet another and a more 
interesting incident to communicate. I feel, however, so much 
fatigued with my present exertion, that I cannot resume the 
pen till to-morrow. I will detain this letter notwithstanding, 
that you may not feel any anxiety upon account of your own 

" Julia Mannekino." 



CHAPTER THIRTY-FIKST. 

Here's a good world ! 

Knew you of this fair work t 

King John. 



JULIA MANNERING TO MATILDA MARCHMONT, 

'^ I MUST take up the thread of my story, my dearest Matilda, 
where I broke off yesterday. 

" For two or three days we talked of nothing but our siege 
and its probable consequences, and dinned into my fia.ther's 
unwilling ears a proposal to go to Edinburgh, or at least to 
Dumfries, where there is remarkably good society, until the 
resentment of these outlaws should blow over. He answered, 
with great composure, that he had no mind to have his land- 
lord's house and his own property at Woodboume destroyed ; 
that, with our good leave, he had usually been esteemed 
competent to taking measures for the safety or protection of 
his family; that if he remained quiet at home, he conceived 
the welcome the villains had received was not of a nature to 
invite a second visit, but should he shew any signs of alarm, it 
would be the sure way to incur the very risk which we were 
afraid of. Heartened by his arguments, and by the extreme 
indifference with which he treated the supposed danger, we 
began to grow a little bolder, and to walk about as usual. 
Only the gentlemen were sometimes invited to take their guns 
when they attended us; and I observed that my father for 
several nights paid particular attention to having the house 
properly secured, and required his domestics to keep their arms 
in readiness in case of necessity. 



GUY MANNEKING. 209 

''But three days ago chanced an occurrence, oi a nature 
which alarmed me more by far than the attack of the 
smugglers. 

" I told you there was a small lake at some distance from 
Woodboume, where the gentlemen sometimes go to shoot wild- 
fowl. I happened at breakfast to say I should like to se« 
this place in its present frozen state, occupied by skaters and 
curlers, as they call those who play a particular sort of game 
upon the ice. There is snow on the ground, but frozen so hard 
that I thought Lucy and I might venture to that distance, as 
the footpath leading there was well beaten by the repair of 
those who frequented it for pastime. Hazlewood instantly 
offered to attend us, and we stipulated that he should take his 
fowling-piece. He laughed a good deal at the idea of going 
a-shooting in the snow; but, to relieve our tremors, desired 
that a groom, who acts as gamekeeper occasionally, should 
follow us with his gun. As for Colonel Mannering, he does 
not like crowds or sights of any kind where human figures 
make up the show, unless indeed it were a military review — so 
he declined the party. 

'' We set out unusually early, on a fine frosty, exhilarating 
morning, and we felt our minds a& weU as our nerves, braced 
by the elasticity of the pure air. Our walk to the lake was 
delightful, or at least the difficulties were only such as diverted 
us, — a slippery descent, for instance, or a frozen ditch to cross, 
— ^which made Hazlewood's assistance absolutely necessary. I 
don't think Lucy liked her walk the less for these occasional 
embarrassments. 

" The scene upon the lake was beautiful. One side of it is 
bordered by a steep crag, from which hung a thousand enormous 
icicles, all glittering in the sun ; on the other side was a little 
wood, now exhibiting that fantastic appearance which the pine 
trees present when their branches are loaded with snow. On 
the frozen bosom of the lake itself were a multitude of moving 
figures, some flitting along with the velocity of swallows, some 
sweeping in the most graceful circles, and others deeply interested 
in a less active pastime, crowding round the spot where the 
inhabitants of two rival parishes contended for the prize at 
curling, — an honour of no small importance, if we were to judge 
from the anxiety expressed both by the players and bystanders. 
We walked round the little lake, supported by Hazlewood, who 

VOL. II. p 



\ 



210 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

lent us each an arm. He spoke, poor fellow, with great kind- 
ness, to old and young, and seemed deservedly popular among 
the assembled crowd. At length we thought of retiring. 

" Why do I mention these trivial occurrences 1 — ^not, Heaven 
knows, from the interest I can now attach to them — but because, 
like a drowning man who catches at a brittle twig, I seize every 
apology for delaying the subsequent and dreadful part of my 
narrative. But it must be communicated — I must have the 
sympathy of at least one friend under this heart-rending 
calamity. 

'' We were returning home by a footpath which led through 
a plantation of firs. Lucy had quitted Hazlewood's arm — ^it is 
only the plea of absolute necessity which reconciles her to 
accept his assistance. I still leaned upon his other arm. Lucy 
followed us close, and the servant was two or three paces behind 
us. Such was our position, when at once, and as if he had 
started out of the earth. Brown stood before us at a short turn 
of the road ! He was very plainly, I might say coarsely, dressed, 
and his whole appearance had in it something wild and agitated. 
I screamed between surprise and terror — Hazlewood mistook 
the nature of my alarm, and, when Brown advanced towards 
me as if to speak, commanded him haughtily to stand back, and 
not to alarm the lady. Brown replied, with equal asperity, he 
had no occasion to take lessons from him how to behave to that 
or any other lady. I rather believe that Hazlewood, impressed 
with the idea tha.t he belonged to the baud of smugglers, and 
had some bad purpose in view, heard and understood him im- 
perfectly. He snatched the gun from the servant, who had 
come up on a line with us, and, pointing the muzzle at Brown, 
commanded him to stand off at his peril My screams, for my 
terror prevented my finding articulate language, only hastened 
the catastrophe. Brown, thus menaced, sprung upon Hazle- 
wood, grappled with him, and had nearly succeeded in wrenching 
the fowling-piece from his grasp, when the gun went off in the 
straggle, and the contents were lodged in Hazlewood's shoulder, 
who instantly feU. I saw no more, for the whole scene reeled 
before my eyes, and I fainted away ; but, by Lucy's report, the 
unhappy perpetrator of this action gazed a moment on the scene 
before him, until her screams began to alarm the people upon 
the lake, several of whom now came in sight. He then bounded 
over a hedge which divided the footpath from the plantaUcw, 



GUY MAiWKRING. 211 

and has not since been heard of. The servant made no attempt 
to stop or secure him, and the report he made of the matter to 
those who came up to us, induced them rather to exercise their 
humanity in recalling me to life, than show their courage by 
pursuing a desperado, described by the groom as a man of tre- 
mendous personal strength, and completely armed. 

" Hazlewood was conveyed home, — that is, to Woodboume, 
in safety ; I trust his wound will prove in no respect dangerous, 
though he suffers much. But to Brown the consequences must be 
most disastrous. He is already the object of my father's resent- 
ment, and he has now incurred danger from the law of the 
country as well as from the clamorous vengeance of the father of 
Hazlewood, who threatens to move heaven and earth against the 
author of his son's wound. How will he be able to shroud him- 
self from the vindictive activity of the pursuit ? — how to defend 
himself, if taken, against the severity of laws which I am told 
may even effect his life ? and how can I find means to warn 
him of his danger? Then poor Lucy's ill-concealed grief, 
occasioned by her lover's wound, is another source of distress to 
me, and everything round me appears to bear witness against 
that indiscretion which has occasioned this calamity. 

" For two days I was very iU indeed. The news that Hazle- 
wood was recovering, and that the person who had shot him 
was nowhere to be traced, only that for certain he was one of 
the leaders of the gang of smugglers, gave me some comfort. 
The suspicion and pursuit being directed towards those people, 
must naturally facilitate Brown's escape, and, I trust, has ere 
this insured it. But patrols of horse and foot traverse the 
country in all directions, and I am tortured by a thousand con- 
fused and unauthenticated rumours of arrests and discoveries. 

" Meanwhile, my greatest source of comfort is the generous 
candour of Hazlewood, who persists in declaring, that with 
whatever intentions the person by whom he was wounded 
approached our party, he is convinced the gun went off in the 
struggle by accident, and that the injury he received was un- 
designed. The groom, on the other hand, maintains that the > 
piece was wrenched out of Hazlewood's hands, and deliberately 
pointed at his body, — and Lucy inclines to the same opinion. 
I do not suspect them of wilful exaggeration ; yet such is the j 
fiallacy of himian testimony, for the unhappy shot was most 
unquestionably discharged unintentionally. Perhaps it would 



212 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

be the best way to confide the whole secret to Hazlewood — but 
he is very young, and I feel the utmost repugnance to commu- 
nicate to him my folly. I once thought of disclosing the mystery 
to Lucy, and began by asking what she recollected of the person 
and features of the man whom we had so unfortunately met ; — 
but she ran out into such a horrid description of a hedge-ruffian, 
that I was' deprived of all courage and disposition to own my 
attachment to one of such appearance as she attributed to him. 
I must say Miss Bertram is strangely biassed by her preposses- 
sions, for there are few handsomer men than poor Brown. I 
had not seen him for a long time ; and even in his strange and 
sudden apparition on this unhappy occasion, and under every 
disadvantage, his form seems to me, on reflection, improved in 
grace, and his features in expressive dignity. — Shall we ever 
meet again? Who can answer that question? — Write to me 
kindly, my dearest Matilda — But when did you otherwise 1 — 
Yet, again, write to me soon, and write to me kindly. I am 
not in a situation to profit by advice or reproof, nor have I my 
usual spirits to parry them by raillery. I feel the terrors of a 
child who has, in heedless sport, put in motion some powerful 
piece of machinery ; and, while he beholds wheels revolving, 
chains clashing, cylinders roUing around him, is equally asto- 
nished at the tremendous powers which his weak agency has 
called into action, and terrified for the consequences which he 
is compelled to await, without the possibility of averting them. 
" I must not omit to say that my father is very kind and 
affectionate. The alarm which I have received forms a suffi- 
cient apology for my nervous complaints. My hopes are, that 
Brown has made his escape into the sister kingdom of England, 
or perhaps to Ireland, or the Isle of Man. In either case, he 
may wait the issue of Hazlewood's wound with safety and with 
patience, for the conmiunication of these countries with Scot- 
land for the purpose of justice, is not, (thank heaven) of an 
intimate nature. The consequences of his being apprehended 
would be terrible at this moment. — I endeavour to strengthen 
my mind by arguing against the possibility of such a calamity. 
Alas ! how soon have sorrows and fears, real as well as severe, 
followed the uniform and tranquil state of existence at which 
80 lately I was disposed to repine 1 But I will not oppress you 
any longer with my complaints. Adieu, my dearest Matilda ! 

" Julia Mannebing." 



GUT MANNEBING. 218 



CHAPTER THIRTY-SECOND. 

A man may see how this world goes with no eyes. — 

Look with thine ears : See how yon justice rails upon yon simple thief. 

Hark in thine ear — Change places ; and, handy-dandy, 

Which is the justice, which is the thief ? King Lear 

Among those who took the most lively interest in endeavour- 
ing to discover the person by whom young Chaxles Hazlewood 
had been waylaid and wounded, was Gilbert Glossin, Esquire, 

late writer in , now Laird of Ellangowan, and one of the 

worshipful commission of justices of the peace for the county of 

. His motives for exertion on this occasion were manifold ; 

but we presume that our readers, from what they already know 
of this gentleman, will acquit him of being actuated by any 
zealous or intemperate love of abstract justice. 

The truth was, that this respectable personage felt himself 
Less at case than he had expected, after his machinations put 
him in possession of his benefactor^s estate. His reflections 
within doors, where so much occurred to remind him of former 
times, were not always the self-congratulations of successful 
stratagem. And when he looked abroad, he could not but be 
sensible that he was excluded from the society of the gentry of 
the county, to whose rank he conceived he had raised himself. 
He was not admitted to their dubs ; and at meetings of a 
public nature, from which he could not be altogether excluded, 
he found himself thwarted and looked upon with coldness and 
contempt. Both principle and prejudice co-operated in creating 
this dislike ; for the gentlemen of the county despised him for 
the lowness of his birth, while they hated him for the means 
by which he had raised his fortune. With the common people 
his reputation stood still worse. They would neither yield him 
the territorial appellation of EUangowan, nor the usual compli- 
ment of Mr, Glossin ; — with them he was bare Glossin, and so 
incredibly was his vanity interested by this trifling circumstance, 
that he was known to give half-arcrown to a beggar because he 
had thrice called him Ellangowan, in beseeching him for a penny. 
He therefore felt acutely the general want of respect, and parti- 
cularly when he contrasted his own character and reception in 
society with those of Mr. Mac-Morlan, who, in far inferior 



314 WAVBRLEY NOVELS. 

worldly circumstances, was beloved and respected both by rich 
and poor, and was slowly but securely laying the foundation of 
a moderate fortune, with the general good-will and esteem of all 
who knew him. 

Glossin, while he repined intemailly at what he would fain 
have called the prejudices and prepossessions of the country, 
was too wise to make any open complaint. He was sensible his 
elevation was too recent to be inmiediately forgotten, and the 
means by which he had attained it too odious to be soon for- 
given. But time (thought he) diminishes wonder and palliates 
misconduct. With the dexterity, therefore, of one who made 
his fortime by studying the weak points of human nature, he 
determined to lie by for opportunities to make himself useful 
even to those who most disliked him ; trusting that his own 
abilities, the disposition of country gentlemen to get into quarrels, 
when a lawyer's advice becomes precious, and a thousand other 
contingencies, of which, with patience and address, he doubted 
not to be able to avail himself, would soon place him in a more 
important and respectable light to his neighbours, and perhaps 
raise him to the eminence sometimes attained by a shrewd, 
worldly, bustling man of business, when, settled among a 
generation of country gentlemen, he becomes, in Bums's language. 

The tongue of the tramp to them a.\* 

The attadc on Colonel Mannering's house, followed by the 
accident of Hazlewood's wound, appeared to Glossin a proper 
opportunity to impress upon the coimtry at large the service 
which could be rendered by an active magistrate (for he had 
been in the commission for some time), well acquainted with 
the law, and no less so with the haunts and habits of the illicit 
traders. He had acquired the latter kind of experience by a 
former close alliance with some of the most desperate smugglers, 
in consequence of which he had occasionally acted, sometimes 
as partner, sometimes as legal adviser, with these persons. But 
the connexion had been dropped many years ; nor, considering 
how short the race of eminent characters of this description, and 
the frequent circumstances which occur to make them retire from 
particular scenes of action, had he the least reason to think that 
his present researches could possibly compromise any old friend 

^ The tongtu of (he trump Is the wire of the Jew's harp, that which giyes sound 
to th« whole instrument. 



GUY MANNEUmO. 215 

who might possess means of retaliation. The having been con- 
cerned in these practices abstractedly, was a circumstance which, 
according to his opinion, ought in no respect to interfere with 
his now using his experience in behalf of the public, — or rather 
to further his own private views. To acquire the good opinion 
and countenance of Colonel Mannering would be no small object 
to a gentleman who was much disposed to escape from Coven- 
try ; and to gain the favour of old Hazlewood, who was a leading 
man in the county, was of more importance still. Lastly, if he 
should succeed in discovering, apprehending, and convicting the 
culprits, he would have the satisfaction of mortifying, and in 
some degree disparaging Mac-Morlan, to whom, as Sheriflf-Sub- 
stitute of the county, this sort of investigation properly belonged, 
and who would certainly suffer in public opinion, should the 
voluntary exertions of Glossin be more successful than his own. 

Actuated by motives so stimulating, and well acquainted with 
the lower retainers of the law, Glossin set every spring in motion 
to detect and apprehend, if possible, some of the gang who had 
attacked Woodboume, and more particularly the individual who 
had wounded Charles Hazlewood. He promised high rewards, 
he suggested various schemes, and used his personal interest 
among his old acquaintances who favoured the trade, urging that 
they had better make sacrifice of an understrapper or two, than in- 
cur the odium of having favoured such atrocious proceedings. 
But for some time all these exertions were in vain. The com- 
mon people of the country either favoured or feared the smug- 
glers too much to afford any evidence against them. At length, 
this busy magistrate obtained information, that a man, having 
the dress and appearance of the person who had wounded 
Hazlewood, had lodged on the evening before the rencontre at the 
Gordon-Arms in Kippletringan. Thither Mr. Glossin immediately 
went, for the purpose of interrogating our old acquaintance, 
Mrs. Mac-Candlish. 

The reader may remember that Mr. Glossin did not, accord- 
ing to this good woman's phrase, stand high in her books. She 
therefore attended his summons to the parlour slowly and re- 
luctantly, and, on entering the room, paid her respects in the 
coldest possible manner. The dialogue then proceeded as 
follows : — 

" A fine frosty morning, Mrs. Mac-Candlish." 

" Ay, sir ; the morning's weel eneugh," answered the landlady. 
drDy. 



216 WAVEltLEY NOVELS. 

"Mrs. Mao-Candlish, I wish to know if the justices are 
to dine here as usual after the business of the court on Tues- 
day T 

*' I believe — I fancy sae, sir — as usual" — (about to leave 
the room.) 

" Stay a moment, Mrs. Mac-Candlish— why, you are in a 
prodigious hurry, my good friend ? I have been thinking a club 
dining here once a month would be a very pleasant thing," 

" Certainly, sir ; a club of respectable gentlemen." 

" True, true," said Glossin, " I mean landed proprietors and 
gentlemen of weight in the county ; and I should like to set such 
a thing a-going." 

The short diy cough with which Mrs. Mac-Candlish received 
this proposal, by no means indicated any dislike to the overture 
abstractedly considered, but inferred much doubt how far it 
would sucoeed under the auspices of the gentleman by whom it 
was proposed. It was not a cough negative, but a cough 
dubious, and as such Glossin felt it ; but it was not his cue to 
take offence. 

'^Have there been brisk doings on the road, Mrs. Mao* 
Candlish? plenty of company, I suppose?" 

" Pretty weel, sir, — but I believe I am wanted at the bar." 

"No, no, — stop one moment, cannot you, to oblige an old 
customer? Pray, do you remember a remarkably tall young 
man, who lodged one night in your house last week?" 

" Troth, sir, I canna weel say — I never take heed whether 
my company be lang or short, if they make a lang bill." 

" And if they do not, you can do that for them, eh, Mrs. 
Mac-Candlish ?-— ha ! ha ! ha ! — But this young man that I 
inquire after was upwards of six feet high, had a dark frock, 
with metal buttons, light-brown hair unpowdered, blue eyes, 
and a straight nose, travelled on foot, had no servant or baggage, 
— ^you surely can remember having seen such a traveller?" 

" Indeed, sir," answered Mrs. Mac-Candlish, bent on baffling 
his inquiries, " I canna charge my memory about the matter — 
there's mair to do in a house like this, I trow, than to look after 
passengers' hair, or their een, or noses either." 

" Then, Mrs. Mac-CandHsh, I must tell you in plain terms, 
that this person is suspected of having been guilty of a crime ; 
and it is in consequence of these suspicions that I, as a magis- 
trate, require this information from you — and if you refiise to 
answer my nuefitions, I must put you upon your oath." 



GUY MANNERING. 217 

" Troth, sir, I am no free to swear* — we aye gaed to the 
Antiburgher meeting — it's very true, in Bailie Mao-Candlish'a 
time (honest man) we keepit the kirk, whilk was most seemingly 
in his station, as having office — ^but after his being called to a 
better place than Kippletringan, I hae gane back to worthy 
Maister Mao-Grainer. And so ye see, sir, I am no clear to swear 
without speaking to the minister — especially against ony sack- 
less puir young thing that's gaun through the country, stranger 
and freendless like." 

" I shall relieve your scruples, perhaps, without troubling Mr. 
Mac-Grainer, when I tell you that this fellow whom I inquire 
after is the man who shot your young friend Charles Hazle- 
wood." 

" Gudeness ! wha could hae thought the like o' that o' him ? 
— Na, if it had been for debt or e'en for a bit tuilzie wi' the 
ganger, the deil o' Nelly Mao-Candlish's tongue should ever hae 
wranged him. But if he really shot young Hazlewood — ^but I 
canna think it, Mr. Glossin ; this will be some o' yer skits f 
now — I canna think it o' sae douce a lad ; — ^na, na, this is just 
some 0* your auld skits — ye'U be for having a homing or a 
caption after him." 

" I see you have no confidence in me, Mrs. Mac-Oandlish ; 
but look at these declarations, signed by the persons who saw 
the crime committed, and judge yourself if the description of 
the ruffian be not that of your guest." 

He put the papers into her hand, which she perused very 
carefully, often tsJdng off her spectacles to cast her eyes up to 
heaven, or perhaps to wipe a tear from them, for young Hazle- 
wood was an especial favourite with the good dame. " Aweel, 
aweel," she said, when she had concluded her examination, 
" since it's e'en sae, I gie him up, the villain — But 0, we are 
erring mortals ! — ^I never saw a face I liked better, or a lad that 
was mair douce and canny — I thought he had been some gentle- 
man under trouble. — But I gie him up, the villain ! — ^to shoot 
Charles Hazlewood — and before the young ladies, — ^poor innocent 
things . — ^I gie him up." 

''So you admit, then, that such a person lodged here the 
night before this vile business 1" 

" Troth did he, sir, and a' the house were taen wi' him, he 

* Some of the strict dissenters decline taking an oath before a civH 
magistrate. f Tricks. 



218 WAVEKLEY NOVELS. 

was sic a fhmk, pleasant young man. It wasna for hiB spending. 
I'm sure, for he just had a mutton-^hop, and a mug of ale, and 
maybe a glass or twa o' wine — ^and I asked him to drink tea 
wi' mysell, and didna put that into the bill ; and he took nae 
supper, for he said he was defeat wi' travel a' the night afore — 
I daresay now it had been on some hellicat errand or other." 

'' Did you by any chance learn his name ?" 

** 1 wot weel did I" said the landlady, now as eager to com- 
mimicate her eyidence as formerly desirous to suppress it. ** He 
tell'd me his name was Brown, and he said it was likely that 
an auld woman like a gipsy wife might be asking for him. Ay, 
ay ! tell me your company, and I'll tell you wha ye are ! the 
villain ! — Aweel, sir, when he gaed away in the morning, he 
paid his bill very honestly, and gae something to the chamber- 
maid, nae doubt, for GrLszy has naething frae me, by twa pair 
o' new shoon ilka year, and maybe a bit compliment at Hansel 

Monanday " Here Glossin found it necessary to interfere, and 

bring the good woman back to the point. 

'^ Ou then, he just said, if there comes such a person to inquire 
after Mr. Brown, you will say I am gone to look at the skaters 
on Loch Creeran, as you caQ it, and I will be back here to 
dinner — But he never came back — ^though I expected him sae 
faithfully, that I gae a look to making the friar's chickoi mysell, 
and to the crappit-heads too, and that's what I dinna do for 
ordinary, Mr. Glossin — But little did I think what skating 
wark he was gaun about — ^to shoot Mr. Charles, the innocent 
lamb!" 

** Mr. Glossin, having like a prudent examinator, suffered his 
witness to give vent to aU her surprise and indignation, now 
began to inquire whether the suspected person had left any 
property or papers about the inn. 

** Troth, he put a parcel — a sma' parcel, under my chaige, and 
he gave me some siller, and desired me to get him half-a-dozen 
ruffled sarks, and Peg Pasley's in hands wi' them e'en now — 
they may serve him to gang up the Lawnmarket in, the 
scoundrel !"* Mr. Glossin then demanded to see the packet, but 
here mine hostess demurred. 

« The procession of the criminals to the gallows of old took that direction, 
moving, as the schoolboy rhyme had it — 

Up the Lawnmarket, (7p the lang ladder, 

Down the West Bow, And down the little tow. 



OUT MANNERING. 219 

" She didna ken — she wad not say but justice should take 
its course — but when a thing was trusted to ane in her way, 
doubtless they were responsible — ^but she suld ciy in Deacon 
Bearcliff, and if Mr. Glossin liked to tak an inventar o* the 
property, and gie her a receipt before the Deacon — or, what she 
wad like muckle better, an' it could be sealed up and left in 
Deacon Bearcliffs hands, it wad mak her mind easy — she waa 
for uaething but justice on a' sides/* 

Mrs. Mguj-Candlish's natural sagacity and acquired suspicion 
being inflexible, Glossin sent for Deacon Bearcliflf, to speak 
*' anent the villain that had shot Mr. Charles Hazlewood." The 
Deacon accordingly made his appearance, with his wig awry, 
owing to the hurry with which, at this summons of the Justice, 
he had exchanged it for the Kilmamock-cap in which he usually 
attended his customers. Mrs. Mac-Gandlish then produced the 
parcel deposited with her by Brown, in which was found the 
gipsy's purse. On perceiving the value of the miscellaneous 
contents, Mrs. Mac-Candlish internally congratulated herself 
upon the precautions she had taken before delivering them up 
to Glossin, while he, with an appearance of disinterested candour, 
was the first to propose they should be properly inventoried, 
and deposited with Deacon Bearcliff, until they should be sent 
to the Grown office. " He did not," he observed, " like to be 
personally responsible for articles which seemed of considerable 
value, and had doubtless been acquired by the most nefarious 
practices." 

He then examined the paper in which the purse had been 
wrapt up. It was the back of a letter addressed to V. Brown, 
Esquire, but the rest of the address was torn away. The 
landlady, — ^now as eager to throw light upon the criminal's 
escape as she had formerly been desirous of withholding it, for 
the miscellaneous contents of the purse argued strongly to her 
mind that all was not right, — Mrs. Mac-Candlish, I say, now 
gave Glossin to understand, that her postilion and hostler had 
both seen the stranger upon the ice that day when young 
Hazlewood was wounded. 

Our reader's old acquaintance, Jock Jabos, was first sum- 
moned, and admitted frankly that he had seen and conversed 
upon the ice that morning with a stranger, who, he understood, 
had lodged at the Gordon-Arms the night before. 

"What turn did your conversation take?" said Gloflsia 



220 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

" Turn ! — ou, we turned nae gate at a*, but just keepit straight 
forward upon the ice like." 

" Well, but what did you speak about V 

" Ou, he just asked questions like ony ither stranger," answered 
the postiHon, possessed, as it seemed, with the refractory and 
uncommunicative spirit which had left his mistress. 

'' But about what ?" said Glossin. 

'^ Ou, just about the folk that was playing at the curling, and 
about auld Jock Stevenson that was at the cock, and about the 
leddies, and sic like." 

" What ladies 1 and what did he ask about them, Jock 1" said 
the interrogator. 

'^ What leddies ? ou, it was Miss Jowlia Mannering and 
Miss Lucy Bertram, that ye ken fu' weel yoursell, Mr. Glossin — 
they were walking wi' the young Laird of Hazlewood upon the 



ice." 



> 



'^ And what did you tell him about them ?" demanded 
Glossin. 

'^ Tut, we just said that was Miss Lucy Bertram of Ellan- 
gowan, that should ance have had a great estate in the coimtry, 
— and that was Miss Jowlia Mannering, that was to be married 
to young Hazlewood — ^See as she was hinging on his ann. We 
just spoke about our country clashes like — ^he was a very frank 



man." 



" Well, and what did he say in answer 1" 

" Ou, he just stared at the young leddies very keen like, and 
asked if it was for certain that the marriage was to be between 
Miss Mannering and young Hazlewood — and I answered him 
that it was for positive and absolute certain, as I had an un- 
doubted right to say sae — ^for my third cousin, Jean Clavers 
(she's a relation o* your ain, Mr. Glossin — ye wad ken Jean 
lang syne ?) she's sib to the housekeeper at Woodboume, and 
she's teU'd me mair than ance that there was naething could be 
mair Hkely." 

" And what did the stranger say when you told him all this ?" 
said Glossin. 

" Say V* echoed the postilion, " he said naething at a' — he 
just stared at them as they walked round the loch upon the ice, 
as if he could have eaten them, and he never took his ee aff 
them, or said another word, or gave another glance at the 
Bonspiel, though there was the finest frm aman^ the curlers ever 



GUY MANNERING. 221 

was seen — ^and he turned round and gaed afi the loch by the 
kirkHstile through Woodboume fir-plantings, and we saw nae 
mair o* him." 

" Only think," said Mrs. Mac-Candlish, " what a hard heart 
he maun hae had, to think o* hurting the poor young gentleman 
in the very presence of the leddy he was to be married to !" 

" 0, Mrs. Mac-Candlish," said Glossin, " there's been many 
cases such as that on the record : doubtless he was seeking re- 
venge where it would be deepest and sweetest." 

"God pity us!" said Deacon BearcliiF; "we're puir frail 
creatures when left to oursells ! — ^ay, he forgot wha said " Ven- 
geance is mine, and I will repay it." 

" Weel, aweel, sirs," said Jabos, whose hard-headed and unculti- 
vated shrewdness seemed sometimes to start the game when 
others beat the bush — " wed, weel, ye may be a' mistaken yet- 
I'U never believe that a man would lay a plan to shoot another 
wi* his 'ain gun. Lord help ye, I was the keeper's assistant 
down at the Isle mysell, and I'll uphaud it, the biggest man in 
Scotland shouldna take a gun frae me or I had weized the slugs 
through him, though I'm but sic a little feckless body, fit for nae- 
thing but the outside o' a saddle and the fore-end o' a poschay — 
na, na, nae living man wad venture on that. I'll wad my best 
buckskins, and they were new coft at Kirkcudbright fair, it's 
been a chance job after a'. But if ye hae naething mair to say 

to me, I am thinking I maun gang and see toy beasts fed" 

and he departed accordingly. 

The hostler, who had accompanied him, gave evidence to the 
same purpose. He and Mrs. Mac-Candlish were then re-inter- 
rogated, whether Brown had no arms with him on that unhappy 
morning. " None," they said, " but an ordinary bit cutlass or 
hanger by his side." 

" Now," said the deacon, taking Glossin by the button, (for, 
in considering this intricate subject, he had forgot Glossin's new 
accession of rank) — " this is but doubtfu' after a', Maister Gilbert 
— ^for it was not sae dooms likely that he would go down into 
battle wi' sic sma' means." 

Glossin extricated himself from the Deacon's grasp, and from 
the discussion, though not with rudeness ; for it was his present 
interest to buy golden opinions from all sorts of people. He 
inquired the price of tea and sugar, and spoke of providing 
himself for the year ; he gave Mrs. Mac-Candlish directions 



222 WAVERLBY NOVELS. 

to have a handsome entertamment in readmeas for a party of 
five Mends, whom he intended to invite to dine with him 
at the Grordon-Aims next Saturday week ; and, lastly, he gave 
a half-crown to Jock Jaboe, whom the hostler had deputed to 
hold his steed. 

" Weel," said the Deacon to Mrs. Mac-Candlish, as he ac- 
cepted her offer of a glass of bitters at the bar, " the deil's no 
sae ill as he's oa'd. It's pleasant to see a gentleman pay the 
regard to the business o' the county that Mr. Glossin does." 

" Ay, 'deed is't. Deacon," answered the landlady ; and yet I 
wonder our gentry leave their ain wark to the like o' him. — 
But as lang as siller's current, Deacon, folk mauna look ower 
nicely at what king's head's on't." 

" I doubt Glossin will prove but skand* after a', mistress," 
said Jabos, as he passed through the little lobby beside tiie bar ; 
" but tliis is a gude half-crown ony way." 

* Cant expression for base coin. 



CHAPTER THIRTY-THIRD 

A man that apprehends death to be no more dreadful but as a drunken 
sleep ; careless, reckless, and fearless of what's past, present, or to come ; 
insensible of mortality, and desperately mortal. 

Measubb fob Measure. 

Glossin had made careful minutes of the information derived 
from these examinations. They threw little light upon the story, 
so far as he understood its purport ; but the better informed 
reader has received, through means of this investigation, an 
account of Brown's proceedings, between the moment when we 
left him upon his walk to Kippletringan, and the time when, 
stung by jealousy, he so rashly and unhappily presented himself 
before Julia Mannering, and well-nigh brought to a fatal temai- 
uation the quarrel which his appearance occasioned. 

Glossin rode slowly back to Ellangowan, pondering on what 
he had heard, and more and more convinced that the active and 
successful prosecution of this mysterious business was an oppor- 
tunity of ingratiating himself with Hazlewood and Mannering, 



GUY MANNERING. 223 

to be on no account neglected. Perhaps, ako, he felt his pro- 
fessional acuteness interested in bringing it to a successful close. 
It was, therefore, with great pleasure that, on his return to his 
house from Kippletringan, he heard his servants announce 
hastily, " that Mac-Guffog, the thief-taker, and twa or three 
concurrents, had a man in hands in the kitchen waiting for his 
honour." 

He instantly jumped from horseback, and hastened into the 
house. " Send my clerk here directly ; ye'll find him copying 
the survey of the estate in the Httle green parlour. Set things 
to rights in my study, and wheel the great leathern chair up to 
the writing-table — set a stool for Mr. Scrow. — Scrow," (to the 
clerk as he entered the presence-chamber,) '^ hand down Sir 
George Mackenzie on Crimes ; open it at the section Via PubUca 
et Privata, and fold down a leaf at the passage ' anent the bearing 
of unlawful weapons.* Now lend me a hand off with my muckle- 
coat, and hang it up in the lobby, and bid them bring up 
the prisoner — I trow I'll sort him; — ^but stay — first send up 
Mac-(Gruffog. — Now, Mac-Guffog, where did ye find this 
chieldl" 

Mac-Guffog, a stout bandy-legged fellow, with a neck like a 
bull, a face like a fire-brand, and a most portentous squint of 
the left eye, began, after various contortions by way of courtesy 
to the Justice, to tell his story, eikiug it out by sundry sly nods 
and knowing winks, which appeared to bespeak an intimate 
correspondence of ideas between the narrator and his principal 
auditor. " Your honour sees I went down to yon place that 
your honour spoke o', that's kept by her that your honour kens 
o' by the sea-side. — So says she, what are you wanting here ? 
ye'll be come wi' a broom in your pocket firae EUangowan ? — So 
says I, deil a broom will come firae there awa, for ye ken, says 
I, his honour EUangowan himsell in former times" 

"WeU, well," said Glossin, "no occasion to be particular — 
tell the essentials." 

" Weel, so we sat niffering about some brandy that I said I 
wanted, till he came in." 

" Who r 

"He," pointing with his thumb inverted to the kitchen, 
where the prisoner was in custody. "So he had his griego 
wrapped dose round him, and I judged he was not dry-handed* 



> 



224 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

— SO I thought it was best to speak proper, and so he believed 
I was a Manks man, and I kept ay between him and her, far 
fear she had whistled.'^ And then we began to drink about, 
and then I betted he would not drink out a quartern of Hol- 
lands without drawing breath — and then he tried it — ^and just 
then Slounging Jock and Dick Spur'em came in, and we clinked 
the darbies t on him, took him as quiet as a lamb — and now 
he's had his bit sleep out, and is as fresh as a May gowan, to 
answer what your honour likes to speir." This narrative, 
delivered vdth a wonderful quantity of gesture and grimace, 
received at the conclusion the thanks and praises which the 
narrator expected. 

'^ Had he no arms )" asked the Justice. 

" Ay, ay, they are never without barkers and slashers." 

"Any papers)" 

" This bundle," delivering a dirty pocket-book, 

"Gro down stairs, then, Mac-Guflfog, and be in waiting." 
The officer left the room. 

The clink of irons was immediately afterwards heard upon the 
stair, and in two or three minutes a man was introduced, hand- 
cuffed and fettered. He was thick, brawny, and muscular, and 
although his shagged and grizzled hair marked an age somewhat 
advanced, and his stature was rather low, he appeared, never- 
theless, a person whom few would have chosen to cope with in 
personal conflict. His coarse and savage features were still 
flushed, and his eye still reeled under the influence of the strong 
potation which had proved the immediate cause of his seizure. 
But the sleep, though short, which Mac-Guffog had allowed him, 
and still more a sense of the peril of his situation, had restored 
to him the full use of his faculties. The worthy judge, and the 
no less esthnable captive, looked at each other steadily for a 
long time vdthout speaking. Glossin apparently recognised his 
prisoner, but seemed at a loss how to proceed with his investi- 
gation At length he broke silence. " Soh, Captain, this is you S 
— ^you have been a stranger on this coast for some years." 

"Stranger !" replied the other; "strange enough, I tliink — 
for hold me der deyvil, if I been ever here before." 

" That won't pass, Mr. Captain." 

" That must pass, Mr. Justice — sapperment !" 

" And who will you be pleased to call yourself, then, for the 
* Given information to the party concerned. f HandcnflA. 



GUY MANNERINO. 225 

present/* said Glossin, ''just until I shall bring some other folks 
to refresh your memory concerning who you are, or at least who 
you have been ?" 

** What bin 1 1 — donner and blitzen 1 I bin Jans Janson, 
from Ouxhaven — what sail Ich bini" 

Glossin took from a case which was in the apartment a pair 
of small pocket pistols, which he loaded with ostentatious care. 
" You may retire," said he to his derk, "and carry. the people 
with you, Screw — ^but wait in the lobby within call," 

The clerk would have oflfered some remonstrances to his 
patron on the danger of remaining alone with such a desperate char- 
acter, although ironed beyond the possibility of active exertion, 
but Glossin waved him off impatiently. When he had left the 
room the Justice took two short turns through the apartment, 
then drew his chair opposite to the prisoner, so as to confront 
him ftilly, placed the pistols before him in readiness, and said in 
a steady voice, " You are Dirk Hatteraick of Flushing, are you 
not?" 

The prisoner turned his eye instinctively to the door, as if he 
apprehended some one was listening. Glossin rose, opened the 
door, so that from the chair in which his prisoner sate he might 
satisfy himself there was no eavesdropper within hearing, then 
shut it, resumed his seat, and repeated his question — " You are 
Dirk Hatteraick, formerly of the Yungfrauw Haagenslaapen, are 
you not 1" 

"Tousand dejrdlsl — and if you know that, why ask mel" 
said the prisoner. 

" Because I am surprised to see you in the veiy last place 
where you ought to be, if you regard your safety," observed 
Glossin cooUy. 

" Der deyvil ! — ^no man regards his own safety that speaks so 
tome!" 

"What? imarmed, and in irons! — ^weU said, Captain!" 
replied Glossin, ironically. " But, Captain, bullying won't do — 
you'll hardly get out of this country without accounting for a 
little accident that happened at Warroch Point a few years ago." 

Hatteraick's looks grew black as midnight. 

" For my part," continued Glossin " I have no particular 
wish to be hard upon an old acquaintance — ^but I must do my 
duty — I shall send you off to Edinburgh in a post-chaise and 
four this very day." 

VOL. 11. Q 



226 WAVERL15Y NOVELS. 

'^ Poz donner ! you would not do that?'' said Hatteraick, in a 
lower and more humbled tone ; " why, you had the matter of 
half a cargo in bills on Vanbeest and Vanbruggen." 

'^ It is so long since, Captain Hatteraick," answered Glossin, 
superciliously, " that I really forget how I was recompensed for 
my trouble." 

" Your trouble 1 your silence, you mean." 

" It was an affair in the course of business," said GloBsin, 
^' and I have retired from business for some time." 

** Ay, but I have a notion that I could make you go steady 
about, and try the old course again," answered Dirk Hatteraick. 
" Why, man, hold me der deyvil, but I meant to visit you, and 
tell you something that concerns you." 
> " Of the boy 1" said Glossin, eagerly. 

" Yaw, Mynheer," replied the Captain, coolly. 

" He does not live, does he ?" 

" As lifelich as you or I," said Hatteraick. 

" Good God ! — But in India 1" exclaimed Glossin. 

" No — tousand deyvils ! here — on this dirty coast of yours," 
rejoined the prisoner. 

" But, Hatteraick, this, — ^that is, if.it be true, which I do not 
believe, — this will ruin us both, for he cannot but. remember 
V your neat job ; and for me — it will be productive of the worst 
consequences ! It will rain us both, I tell you." 

" I teU you," said the seaman, " it will ruin none but you — 
for I am done up akeady^ and if I must strap for it, all shall 
out." 

" Zounds !" said the Justice, impatiently, " what brought you 
back to this coast like a madman V* 

" Why, all the gelt was gone, and the house was shaking, and 
I thought the job was clayed over and forgotten," answered the 
worthy skipper. 

"Stay — what can be done?" said Glossin anxiously. "1 
dare not discharge you — ^but might you not be rescued in the 
way — ay sure? a word to Lieutenant Brown, — and I would 
send the people with you by the coast-road." 
. " No, no ! that won't do — Brown's dead — shot — ^laid in the 
locker, man— the devil has the picking of him." 

" Dead 1 — shot 1 — at Woodboume, I suppose 1" replied 
Glossin. 

"Yaw, Mynheer." 



GUY MANNERING. 227 

Glossin paused — ^the sweat broke upon his brow with the 
agony of his feelings, while the hard-featured miscreant who sat 
opposite, coolly rolled his tobacco in his cheek, and squirted the 
juice into the fire-grate. " It would be ruin," said Glossin to 
himself, " absolute ruin, if the heir should re-appear — and then 
what might be the consequence of conniving with these men ? — 
yet there is so little time to take measures. — Hark you, Hatter- 
aick ; I can't set you at liberty — but I can put you where you 
may set yourself at liberty — I always like to assist an old friend. 
I shall confine you in the old Castle for to-night, and give these 
people double allowance of grog. Mac-Guffbg will fall in the 
trap in which he caught you. The stancheons on the window of 
the strong room, as they call it, are wasted to pieces, and it is 
not above twelve feet from the level of the ground without, and 
the snow lies thick." 

"But the darbies," said Hatteraick, looking upon his 
fetters. 

" Hark ye," said Glossin, going to a tool-chest, and taking out 
a small file, " there's a friend for you, and you know the road to 
the sea by the stairs." 

Hatteraick shook his chains in ecstasy, as if he were already 
at liberty, and strove to extend his fettered hand towards his 
protector. Glossin laid his finger upon his lips with a cautious 
glance at the door, and then proceeded in his instructions. 
" When you escape, you had better go to the Kaim of Dem- 
cleugh." 

" Donner ! that howff is blown." 

" The devil ! — ^well, then, you may steal my skiff that lies 
on the beach there, and away. But you must remain snug at 
the Point of Warroch till I come to see you." 

" The Point of Warroch V* said Hatteraick, his countenance 
again falling — " what, in the cave, I suppose-?-— I would rather 
it were anywhere else ; — es spuckt da ! — they say for certain 
that he walks. — But, donner and blitzen ! I never shunned him 
alive, and I won't shun him dead. — Strafe mich heUe ! it shall 
never be said Dirk Hatteraick feared either dog or devil ! — So 
I am to wait there till I see you ?" 

"Ay, ay," answered Glossin, "and now 1 must call in the 
men." He did so accordingly. 

" I can make nothing of Captain Janson, as he calls himself, 
Mao-Guffog, and it's now too late to bundle him off to the 



228 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

oounty jaiL Is there not a strong room up yonder in the old 
castle?" 

" Ay is there, sir ; my uncle the constiible ance kept a man 
there for three days in auld EUangowan*s time. But there was 
an unco dust about it — ^it was tried in the Inner-house afore the 
feifteen." 

" I know all that, but this person will not stay there very 
long-^it's only a makeshift for a night — a mere lock-up house 
till farther examination. There is a small room through which 
it opens ; you may light a fire for yomrselves there, and Fll send 
you plenty of stuff to make you comfortable. But be sure you 
lock the door upon the prisoner ; and, hark ye, let him have a 
fire in the strong room too — ^the season requires it. Perhaps 
he'll make a clean breast to-morrow." 

With these instructions, and with a large allowance of food 
and liquor, the Justice dismissed his party to keep guard for the 
night in the old castle, under the full hope and belief that they 
would neither spend the night in watching nor prayer. 

There was little fear that Glossin himself should that night 
sleep over-sound. His situation was perilous in the extreme, 
for the schemes of a life of villany seemed at once to be crum- 
bling around and above him. He laid himself to rest, and 
tossed upon his piUow for a long time in vain. At length he 
fell asleep, but it was only to dream of his patron, — ^now, as he 
had last seen him, with the paleness of death upon his features, 
then again transformed into all the vigour and comeliness of 
youth, approaching to expel him from the mansion-house of his 
fathers. Then he dreamed, that after wandering long over a 
wild heath, he came at length to an inn, from which sounded 
the voice of revelry ; and that when he entered, the first person 
he met was Frank Kennedy, all smashed and gory, as he had 
lain on the beach at Warroch Point, but with a reeking punch- 
bowl in his hand. Then the scene changed to a dungeon, where 
he heard Dirk Hatteralck, whom he imagined to be under sen- 
tence of death, confessing his crimes to a clergyman. — ** After 
the bloody deed was done," said the penitent, " we retreated into 
a cave close beside, the secret of which was known but to one 
man in the country', we were debating what to do with the 
child, and we thought of giving it up to the gipsies, when we 
heard the cries of the pursuers hallooing to each other. One man 
alone came straight to our cave, and it was that man who knew 



GUY MANNERING. 229 

the secret — ^but we made him our Mend at che expense of half 
the value of the goods saved. £7 his advice we carried off the 
child to Holland in our consort, which came the following night 
to take us from the coast. That man was" 

" No, I deny it ! — ^it was not I V said Gloesin, in half-uttered 
accents ; and, struggling in his agony to express his denial more 
distinctly, he awoke. 

It was, however, conscience that had prepared this mental 
phantasmagoria. The truth was, that Imowing much better 
than any other person the haunts of the smugglers, he had, 
while the others were searching in different directions, gone 
straight to the cave, even before he had learned the murder of 
Kennedy, whom he expected to find their prisoner. He came 
upon them with some idea of mediation, but found them in the 
midst of their guilty terrors, while the rage, which had hurried 
them on to murder, began, with all but Hatteraick, to sink into 
remorse and fear. Glossin was then indigent, and greatly in 
debt, but he was already possessed of Mr. Bertram's ear, and, 
aware of the facility of Ids disposition, he saw no diificulty in 
enriching himself at his expense, provided the heir-male were 
removed; in which case the estate became the unlimited 
property of the weak and prodigal father. Stimulated by present 
gainand the prospect of contingent advantage, heaccepted the bribe 
which the smugglers offered in their terror, and connived at, or 
rather encouraged, their intention of carrying away the child of 
his benefactor, who, if left behind, was old enough to have de- 
scribed the scene of blood which he had witnessed. . The only 
palliative which the ingenuity of Glossin could offer to his con- 
science was, that the temptation was great, and came suddenly 
upon him, embracing as it were the very advantages on which 
his mind had so long rested, and promising to relieve him from 
distresses which must have otherwise speedily overwhelmed him. 
Besides, he endeavoured to think that self-preservation rendered 
his conduct necessary. He was, in some degree, in the power of 
the robbers, and pleaded hard with his conscience, that, had he 
declined their offers, the assistance which he could have called for, 
though not distant, might not have arrived in time to save him 
from men who, on less provocation, had just committed murder. 

Galled with the anxious forebodings of a guilty conscience, 
Glossin now arose, and looked out upon the night. The scene 
which we have already described in the third chapter of this 



230 waverley novels. 

Btory, was now covered with snow, and the brilliant^ though 
waste, whiteness of the land, gave to the sea by contrast a dark 
and livid tinge. A landscape covered with snow, though ab- 
stractedly it may be called beautiful, has, both from the 
association of cold and barrenness, and from its comparative 
infrequency, a wild, strange, and desolate appearance. Objects, 
well known to us in their common state, have either disappeared, 
or are so strangely varied and disguised, that we seem gazing 
on an unknown world. But it was not with such reflections 
that the mind of this bad man was occupied. His eye was 
upon the gigantic and gloomy outlines of the old castle, where, 
in a flanking tower of enormous size and thickness, glimmered 
two lights, — one from the window of the strong room where 
Hatteraick was confined, the other from that of the adjacent 
apartment occupied by his keepers. '^ Has he made his escape, 
or will he be able to do so 1 — Have these men watched, who 
never watched before, in order to complete my ruin ? — If morn- 
ing finds him there, he must be committed to prison; Mac- 
Morlan or some other person will take the matter up — he will 
be detected — convicted — and will tell all in revenge !" 

While these racking thoughts glided rapidly through Glossin*s 
mind, he observed one of the lights obscured, as by an opaque 
body placed at the window. What a moment of interest — 
" He has got clear of his irons ! — ^he is working at the stancheons 
of the window — ^they are surely quite decayed, they must give 
way — God ! they have fallen outward ; I heard them clink 
among the stones ! — ^the noise cannot fail to wake them — furies 
seize his Dutch awkwardness — The light bums free again — ^they 
have torn him from the window, and are binding him in the 
room ! — No ! he had only retired an instant on the alarm of the 
falling baxsr— he is at the window again— and the light is quite 
obscured now — ^he is getting out !" 

A heavy sound, as of a body dropped from a height among 
the snow, announced that Hatteraick had completed his escape, 
and shortly after Glossin beheld a dark figure, like a shadow, 
steal along the whitened beach, and reach the spot where the 
skiff lay. New cause for fear ! — " His single strength will be 
unable to float her," said Glossin to himself — " I must go to the 
rascal's assistance. But no ! he has got her off, and now, thank 
God ! her sail is spreading itself against the moon — ay, he has 



GUT MANNEBIN6. 231 

got the breeze now— would to heaven it were a tempest, to smk 
him to the bottom !" 

After this last cordial wish, he contiQued watching the pro^ 
gress of the boat as it stood away towards the Point of Warroch, 
until he could no longer distinguish the dusky sail from the 
gloomy waves over which it glided. Satisfied then that the 
immediate danger was averted, he retired with somewhat more 
composure to his guilty pillow. 



OHAPTEE THIETY-FOURTH. 

Why dost not comfort me and help me out 
From this imhallowed and blood-stained hole ! 

Titus Andbonioub. 

On the next morning, great was the alarm and confusion oi 
the officers when they discovered the escape of their prisoner. 
Mac-Guffog appeared before Glossin with a head perturbed with 
brandy and fear, and incurred a most severe reprimand for 
neglect of duty. The resentment of the Justice appeared only 
to be suspended by his anxiety to recover possession of the 
prisoner, and the thief-takers, glad to escape from his awful 
and incensed presence, were sent off in every direction (except 
the right one) to recover their prisoner, if possible. Glossin 
particularly recommended a careful search at the Kaim of Dem- 
cleugh, which was occasionally occupied under night by vagrants 
of different descriptions. Having thus dispersed his .myrmidons 
in various directions, he himself hastened by devious paths 
through the wood of Warroch, to his appointed interview with 
Hatteraick, from whom he hoped to learn at more leisure than 
last night's conference admitted, the circimistances attending 
the return of the heir of Ellangowan to his native country. 

With manoeuvres like those of a fox wh^n he doubles to avoid 
the pack, Glossin strove to approach the place of appointment in 
a manner which should leave no distinct track of his course. 
" Would to Heaven it would snow,? he said, looking upward, 
*^ And hide these foot-prints. Should one of the officers light 
upon them, he would run the scent up like a blood-hound, and 



232 WAYESLEY NOVELS. 

surprise us. I must get down upon the sea beach, and contrive 
to creep along beneath the rocks." 

And accordingly he descended from the clif& with some difi&- 
culty, and scrambled along between the rocks and the advancing 
tide ; now looking up to see if his motions were watched from 
the rocks above him, now casting a jealous glance to mark if 
any boat appeared upon the sea, frx)m which his course might be 
discovered. 

But even the feelings of selfish apprehension were for a time 
superseded, as Glossin passed the spot where Kennedy's body 
had been foimd. It was marked by the fragment of a rock 
which had been precipitated from the cliff above, either with 
the body or after it. The mass was now encrusted with small 
shell-fish, and tasselled with tangle and sea-weed ; but still its 
shape and substance were different from those of the other rocks 
which lay scattered around. His voluntary walks, it will readily 
be believed, had never led to this spot ; so that finding himself 
now there for the first time after the terrible catastrophe, the 
scene at once recurred to his mind with aU its accompaniments 
of horror. He remembered how, like a gmlty thmg, gliding 
from the neighbouring place of concealment, he had mingled 
with eagerness, yet with caution, among the terrified group who 
surrounded the corpse, dreading lest any one should ask from 
whence he came. He remembered, too, with what conscious 
fear he had avoided gaziug upon that ghastly spectacle. The 
wild scream of his patron, '^ My bairn ! my bairn !" again rang 
in his ears. ^^ Qood God !'' he exclaimed, " and is all I have 
gained worth the agony of that moment, and the thousand 
anxious fears and horrors which have since embittered my life ! 
— O how I wish that I lay where that wretched man lies, and 
that he stood here in life and health ! But these regrets are all 
too late." 

Stifling, therefore, his feelings, he crept forward to the cave, 
which was so near the spot where the body was found, that the 
smugglers might have heard from their hiding-place the various 
conjectures of the b3ratanders concerning the fate of their victim. 
But nothing could be more completely concealed than .the 
entrance to their asylum. The opening, not larger than that of 
a fox-earth, lay in the face of the cliff directly behind a large 
black rock, or rather upright stone, which served at once to 
oonceal it from strangers, and as a mark to point out its situation 



OUT HANKERING. 233 

to those who used it as a place of retreat. The space between 
the stone and the cliff was exceedingly narrow, and being heaped 
with sand and other rubbish, the most minute search would not 
have discovered the mouth of the cavern, without removing 
those substances which the tide had drifted before it. For the 
purpose of farther concealment, it was usual with the contraband 
traders who frequented this haunt, after they had entered, to 
stuff the mouth with withered sea-weed, loosely piled together, 
as if carried there by the waves. Dirk Hatteraick had not 
forgotten this precaution. 

Glossin, though a bold and hardy man, felt his heart throb, 
and his knees knock together, when he prepared, to ^ter this 
den of secret iniquity, in order to hold conference with a felon, 
whom he justly accounted one of the most desperate and depraved 
of men. ^' But he has no interest to injure me," was his con- 
solatory reflection. He examined his pocket pistols, however, 
before removing the weeds and entering the cavern, which he 
did upon hands and knees. The passage, which at first was 
low and narrow, just admitting entrance to a man in a creeping 
posture, expanded after a few yards into a high arched vault of 
considerable width. The bottom, ascending gradually, was 
covered with the purest sand. Ere Glossin had got upon his 
feet, the hoarse yet suppressed voice of Hatteraick growled 
through the recesses of the cave. 

" Hagel and donner . — ^be'st du !" 

" Are you in the dark ?" 

"Dark? der deyvil ! ay," said Dirk Hatteraick; "where 
should I have a glim V* 

" I have brought light ;" and Glossin accordingly produced a 
tinder-box, and lighted a small lantern. 

" You must kindle some fire too, for hold mich der deyvil, 
Ich bin ganz gefrome !" 

"It is a cold place, to be sure," said Glossin, gathering 
together some decayed staves of barrels and pieces of wood, 
which had perhaps lain in the cavern since Hatteraick was there 
last. 

" Cold ? Snow-wasser and hagel ! — ^it's perdition — I could 
only keep myself alive by rambling up and down this d — d 
vatdt, and thinking about the merry rouses we have had m it " 

The flame then began to blaze brightly, and Hatteraick hung 
bis bronzed visage, and expanded his hard and siaeiwy hands 



234 WAVERLEY NOVELS, 

over it, with an avidity resembling that of a famished wretch 
to whom food is exposed. The light showed his savage and 
stem features, and the smoke^ which in his agony of cold he 
seemed to endure almost to suffocation, after circling round his 
head, rose to the dim and rugged roof of the cave, through 
which it escaped by some secret rents or clefts in the rock ; the 
same doubtless that afforded air to the cavern when the tide 
was in, at which time the aperture to the sea was filled with 
water. 

'^ And now I have brought you some breakfast,'' said Glossin, 
producing some cold meat and a flask of spirits. The latter 
Hatteraipk eagerly seized upon, and applied to his mouth ; and 
after a hearty draught, he exclaimed with great rapture, ** Das 
Bchmeckt ; — ^that is good — ^that warms the liver !" Then broke 
into the fragment of a High-Dutch song, 

" Saufen Bier, und Brante-wein, 
Schmeiflsen alle die Fensteni ein 
Ich ben liederlich, 
Dn bist liederlich ; 
Sind wir nicht liederlich Leute a ! " 

*^ Well said, my hearty Captain !'' cried Glossin, endeavouring 
to catch the tone of revelry, — 

" Gin by pailfuLs, wine in rivers, 
Dash the window-glass to shivers ! 

For three wild lads were we, brave boys. 
And three wild lads were we ; 
Thou on the land, and I on the sand, 
And Jack on the gallows-tree ! 

That's it, my bully-boy ! Why, you're alive again now 1 And 
now let us talk about our business." 

'' Yoti/r business, if you please," said Hatteraick ; " hagel and 
donner ! — ^mine was done when I got out of the bilboes." 

" Have patience, my good friend ; — I'll convince you our 
interests are just the same." 

Hatteraick gave a short dry cough, and Glossin, after a pause, 
proceeded. 

" How came you to let the boy escape 1" 

^* Why, fluch and blitzen ! he was no charge of mine. 
Lieutenant Brown gave hmi to his cousin that's in the Middle- 
burgh House of Yanbeesi and Yanbruggen, and told him some 
froose's gazette about his being taken in a skirmish with the 



GUY MANNEBING. 235 

land-sliarks — lie gave him for a foot-boy. Me let him escape ! 
— ^the bastard kmchin should have walked the plank ere 1 
troubled myself about him." 

" Well, and was he bred a foot-boy then ]" 

'^ Nein, nein ; the kinchin got about the old man's heart* and 
he gave him his own name, and bred him up in the office, and 
then sent him to India — I believe he would have packed him 
back here, but his nephew told him it would do up the free 
trade for many a day, if the youngster got back to Scotland." 

" Do you think the yoimker knows much of his own origin 
now?" 

"Deyvil!" replied Hatteraick, "how should I tell, what he 
knows now 1 But he remembered something of it long. When 
he was but ten years old, he persuaded another Satan's limb of 
an English bastard like himself to steal my lugger's kahn — ^boat 
— what do you call it — ^to return to his country, as he called it 
— ^fire him ! Before we could overtake them, they had the skiff 
out of channel as far as the Deurloo — the boat might have been 
lost." 

" I wish to Heaven she had — ^with him in her !" ejaculated 
Glossin. 

" Why, I was so angry myself, that, sapperment 1 I did give 
him a tip over the side — ^but split him — ^the comical little devil 
swam like a duck ; so I made him swim astern for a mile to 
teach him manners, and then took him in when he was sinking. 
By the knocking Nicholas ! he'll plague you, how he's come 
over the herring-pond ! When he was so high he had the spirit 
of thunder and lightning." 

" How did he get back from India?" 

" Why, how should I know 1 — ^the house there was done up, 
and that gave us a shake at Middleburgh, I think — so they 
sent me again to see what could be done among my old 
acquaintances here — for we held old stories were done away 
and forgotten. So I had got a pretty trade on foot within the 
last two trips ; but that stupid houndsfoot schelm, Brown, has 
knocked it on the head again, I suppose, with getting himself 
shot by the colonel-man 1" 

" Why were not you with them ]" 

•" Why, you see — sapperment ! I fear nothing — but it was 
too far within land, and I might have been scented." 

" True. But to return to this youngster '* 



2S6 WAVBBLST NOVELa 

^'Ay^ ay, doimer and blitzen ) "Ms your affair/' said the 
Captam. 

" — How do you really know that he is in this couiitiy 1" 

'' Why, Gkibriel saw him up among the hills." 

"Gabriel! who is he 1" 

" A fellow from the gipsies, that, about eighteen years since, 
was pressed on board that d— d fellow Prichard's sbop-of-war. 
It was he came o£f and gave us warning that the Shark was 
coming round upon us the day Kennedy was done ; and he told 
us how Kennedy had given the information. The gipsies and 
Kennedy had some quarrel besides. This Gab went to the 
East Indies in the same ship with your younker, and, sapper- 
ment ! knew him well, though the other did not remember him. 
Gab kept out of his eye though, as he had served the States 
against England, and was a deserts to boot ; and he sent us 
word directly, that we might know. of his being here — ^though 
it does not concern us a rope's end." 

" So, then, really, and in sober earnest, he is actually in this 
country, Hatteraick, between friend and Mend?" asked Glossin, 
fieriously. 

" Wetter and donner ! yaw. What do you take me for ?" 

For a blood-thirsty, fearless miscreant! thought Glossin 
internally ; but said aloud, " And which of your people was it 
that shot young Hazlewood ?" 

"Sturm-wetter!" said the Captain, "do ye think we were 
mad 1 none of us, man. €rott ! the country was too hot for the 
trade already with that d — d frolic of Brown's, attacking what 
you call Woodboume House." 

" Why, I am told," said Glossin, " it was Brown who shot 
Hazlewood V 

" Not our lieutenant, I promise you ; for he was laid six feet 
deep at Derncleugh the day before the thing happened. Tau- 
send deyvils, man I do ye think that he could rise out of the 
earth to shoot another man ?" 

A light here began to break upon Glossin's confusion of ideas. 
" Did you not say that the younker, as you call him, goes by 
the name of Brown 1" 

" Of Brown ? yaw — Vanbeest Brown ; old Vanbeest Brown; 
of our Vanbeest and Vanbruggen, gave him his own name — 
he did," 



GUT MANNBRING. 237 

"Then," said Glossin, rubbing hLs hands, ."it is he, by 
Heaven, who has committed this crime !" 

" And what have we to do with that?" demanded Hatteraick. 

Glossin paused; and, fertile in expedients, hastily ran over 
his project in his own mind, and then drew near the smuggler 
with a confidential air. " You know, my dear Hatteraick, it is 
our principal business to get rid of this young man ?" 

" Umph !" answered Dirk Hatteraick 

"Not," continued Glossin — "not that I would wish any 
personal harm to him — ^if — if — ^if we can do without. Now, he 
is liable to be seized upon by justice, both as bearing the same 
name with your lieutenant, who was engaged in that affair at 
Woodboume, and for firing at young Hazlewood with intent to 
kill or wound." 

" Ay, ay," said Dirk Hatteraick ; " but what good will that 
do you ? He'll be loose again bs soon as he shows himself to 
carry other colours." 

" True, my dear Dirk — ^well noticed, my friend Hatteraick ! 
But there is ground enough for a temporary imprisonment till 
he fetch his proofs &om England or ekewhere, my good friend. 
I understand the law. Captain Hatteraick, and I'U take it upon 
me, simple Gilbert Glossin of Ellangowan, justice of peace for 

the county of , to refuse his bail, if he should offer the best 

in the country, until he is brought up for a second examination 
— ^now where d'ye think 111 incarcerate him?" 

" Hagel and wetter ! what do I care?" 

" Stay, my friend — ^you do care a great deal. Do you know 
your goods, that were seized and carried to Woodboume, are 
now lying in the Custom-house at Portanferry?" (a small 
fishing-town). " Now I will commit this younker " 

" When you have caught him ?" 

"Ay, ay, when I have caught him — I shall not be long 
about that— I will commit him to the Workhouse, or Bridewell, 
which you know is beside the Custom-house." 

" Yaw, the Rasp-house, I know it very weU." 

" I wiU take care that the red-coats are dispersed through 
the country ; you land at night with the crew of your lugger, 
receive your own goods, and carry the younker Brown with 
you back to Flushing. Won't that do ?" 

"Ay, carry him to Flushing," said the Captain, "or — to 
America V 




238 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

** Ay, ay, my friend." 

"Or— to Jericho 1" 

''.Paha ! Wherever you have a mind.** 

" Ay, or — ^pitch him overboard ?** 

" Nay, I advise no violence.** 

" Nein, nein — ^you leave that to me. Sturm-wetter ! I know 
you of old. But hark ye, what am I, Dirk Hatteraick, to be 
the better of this r 

'' Why, is it not your interest as well as mine ?** said Glossin : 
" besides, I set you free this morning.** 

"• You set me free ! — Donner and deyvil ! I set myself free. 
Besides, it was all in the way of your profession, and happened 
a long time ago, ha ! ha ! ha !** 

'* Pshaw ! pshaw ! don*t let us jest ; I am not against making 
a handsome compliment — ^but it*s your affair as well as mine.** 

" What do you talk of my affair 1 is it not you that keep 
the younker*s whole estate from him ? Dirk Hattendck never 
touched a stiver of his rents." 

" Hush ! hush . — I tell you it shall be a joint business.** 

** Why, will ye give me half the kitt ?** 

" ^Vhat, half the estate? — d*ye mean we should set up house 
together at EUangowan, and take the barony, ridge about)** 

" Sturm-wetter, no ! but you might give me half the value- 
half the gelt. Live with you ? — ^nein — I would have a lust- 
haus of mine own on the Middleburgh dyke, and a blumen- 
garten like a burgomaster's.** 

'^ Ay, and a wooden lion at the door, and a painted sentinel 
in the garden, with a pipe in his mouth !— But, hark ye, 
IJatteraick — ^what will all the tulips, and flower-gardens, and 
pleasure-houses in the Netherlands do for you, if you are hanged 
here in Scotland?" 

Hatteraick*s countenance fell. " Der Deyvil ! — Changed ?** 

" Ay, hanged, meinheer Captain. The devil can scarce save 
Dirk Hatteraick from being hanged for a murderer and kid- 
napper, if the younker of EUangowan should settle in this 
country, and if the gallant Captain chances to be caught here 
re-establishing his fair trade ! And I won't say, but, as peace is 
now so much talked of, their High Mightinesses may not hand 
him over to oblige their new allies, even if he remained in 
faderland.** 

" Poz hagel blitzen and donner t I — I doubt you say true." 



GUT MANNERINa 239 

''Not/' said Glossin, perceiving he had made the desired 
impression, '' not that I am against being civil ;" and he slid 
into Hattendck's passive hand a bank-note of some value. 

'' Is this all ?" said the smuggler ; '' you had the price of half 
a cargo for winking at our job, and made us do your business 
too." 

"But, my good friend, you forget — in this case you wUl 
recover all your own goods." 

" Ay, at the risk of all our own necks — we could do that 
without you," 

"I doubt that. Captain Hatteraick," said Glossin drily, 
'' because you would probably find a dozen red-coats at the 
Custom-house, whom it must be my business, if we agree about 
this matter, to have rempved. Come, come, I will be as liberal 
as I can, but you should have a conscience." 

" Now strafe mich der deyfel ! — this provokes me more than 
all the rest ! — ^You rob and you murder, and you want me to 
rob and murder, and play the silver-cooper, or kidnapper, as 
you call it, a dozen times over, and then, hagel and wind- 
sturm ! you speak to me of conscience ! Can you think of no 
fairer way of getting rid of this unlucky lad?" 

" No, meinheer ; but as I commit him to your charge " 

" To my charge — to the charge of steel and gunpowder ! and 
— well, if it must be, it must — ^but you have a tolerably good 
guess what's like to come of it." 

"0, my dear friend, I trust no degree of severity will be 
necessary," replied Glossin. 

" Severity !" said the feUow, with a kind of groan. " I wish 
you had had my dreams when I first came to this dog-hole, 
and tried to sleep among the dry sea-weed. First, there was 
that d — d feUow there, with his broken back, sprawling as he 
did when I hurled the rock over a-top on him — ^ha ! ha I — you 
would have sworn he was lying on the floor where you stcmd, 
wriggling like a crushed firog — and then " '- 

"Nay, my friend," said Glossin, interrupting him, "what 
signifies going over this nonsense 1 — If you are turned chicken- 
hearted, why, the game's up, that's aU — the game's up with us 
both." 

"Chicken-hearted? — No. I have not lived so long upon 
the account to start at last, neither for devil nor Dutchman.'* 



340 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

" Well, then, take another schnaps — the cold's at your heart 
Btill. — ^And now tell me, are any of your old crew with you ?" 

"Nein — all dead, shot, hanged, drowned, and damned. 
Brown was the last— all dead but Gipsy Gab, and he would go 
off the country for a spill of money-^or he'U be quiet for his 
own sake — or old Meg, his aunt, will keep him quiet for hers." 

"Which Meg?" 

" Meg Merrilies, the old devil's limb of a gipsy witch." 

" Is she still aUve!" 

" Yaw." 

" And in this country ?" 

" And in this country. She was at the Kaim of Demcleugh, 
at Vanbeest Brown's last wake, as they call it, the other night, 
with two of my people, and some of her own blasted gipsies." 

" That's another breaker a-head, Captain ! Will she not 
squeak, think ye?" 

" Not she — she won't start — she swore by the salmon,* if we 
did the kinchin no harm, she would never tell how the ganger 
got it. Why, man, though I gave her a wipe with my hanger 
in the heat of the matter, and cut her arm, and though she waa 
so long after in trouble about it up at your borough-town there, 
der deyvil ! old Meg was as true as steel." 

" Why, that's true, as you say," replied Glossin. " And yet 
if she could be carried over to Zealand, or Hamburgh, or — or — 
anywhere else, you know, it were as well." 

Hatteraick jumped upright upon his feet, and looked at 
Glossin from head to heel. — " I don't see the goat's foot," he 
said; — "and yet he must be the very deyvil! — But Meg 
Merrilies is closer yet with the Kobold than you are — ay, and 
I had never such weather as after having drawn her blood. — 
Nein, nein, I'll meddle with her no more — she's a witch of the 
fiend — a real deyvil's kind — ^but that's her aflGair. Donner and 
wetter ! I'U neither make nor meddle — ^that's her work. — ^But 
for the rest — why, if I thought the trade would not suffer, I 
would soon rid you of the younker, if you send me word when 
he's under embargo." 

In brief and under tones the two worthy associates concerted 
their enterprise, and agreed at which of his haimts Hatteraick 
should be heard of. The stay of his lugger on the coast was 
not difficult, afi there were no king's vessels there at the tim& 

* The ureat and in viol able oath of the RtroUing tribes. 



GUY MAyNERING. 241 



CHAPTER THIRTY-FIFTH. 

7ou are one of those that will not serve God if the devil bids yoiL — 
Bdcause we come to do you service, you think we are ruffians. 

Othbllo. 

When Glossin returned home, he found, among other letters 
and papers sent to him, one of considerable importance. It 
was signed by Mr. Protocol, an attorney in Edinburgh, and, 
addressing him as the agent for (rodfirey Bertram, Esq., late of 
Ellangowan, and his representatives, acquainted him with tdie 
sudden death of Mrs. Margaret Bertram of Singleside, request- 
ing him to inform his clients thereof, in case they should judge 
it proper to have any person present for their intarest at opening 
the. repositories of the deceased. Mr. Glossin perceived at once 
that the letter-writer was unacquainted with the breach which ^ 
had taken place between him and his late patron. The estate 
of the deceased lady should by rights, as he well knew, descend 
to Lucy Bertram ; but it was a thousand to one that the caprice 
of the old lady might have altered its destination. After running 
over contingencies and probabilities in his fertile mind, to ascer- 
tain what sort of personal advantage might accrue to him from l^ 
this incident, he could not perceive any mode of availing himself 
of it, except in so far as it might go to assist his plan of recover- 
ing, or rather creating, a character, the want of which he had 
already experienced, anv^ was likely to feel yet more deeply. 
" I must place myself," he thought, " on strong ground, that if 
anything goes wrong with Dirk Hatteraick's project, I may have • 
prepossessions in my favour at least." — Besides, to do Glossin 
justice, bad as he was, he might feel some desire to compensate 
to Miss Bertram in a small degree, and in a case in which his . 
own interest did not interfere with hers, the infinite mischief 
which he had occasioned to her family. He therefore resolved 
early the next morning to ride over to Woodboume. 

It was not without hesitation that he took this step, having 
the natural reluctance to face Colonel Mannering, which fraud 
and villany have to encounter honour and probity. But he had 
great confidence in' his own zanxm favre. His talents were 
naturally acute, and by no means confined to the line of his 
profession. He had at diflferent times resided a good deal in 

VOL. IL R 



343 WAVERLET NOVELS. 

England, and his address was free both from country rosticity 
and professional pedantry ; so that he had considerable powers 
both of address and persuasioii, joined to an unshaken effirontery, 
which he affected to disguise under plainness of manner. Con- 
fident, therefore, in himself, he appeared at Woodboume, about 
ten in the morning, and was admitted as a gentleman come to 
wait upon Miss Bertram. 

He did not announce himself until he was at the door of the 
breakfast-parlour, when thjB servant, by his desire, said aloud — 
'^ Mr. Glossin, to wait upon Miss Bertram.'' Lucy, remember- 
ing the last scene of her other's existence, turned as pale as 
death, and had well-nigh fallen from her chair. Julia Manner- 
ing flew to her assistance, and they left the room together. 
There remained Colonel Mannering, Charles Hazlewood, with 
his arm in a sling, and the Dominie, whose gaunt visage and 
wall-eyes assumed a most hostile aspect on recognising Glossin. 

That honest gentleman, though somewhat abashed by the 
effect of his first introduction, advanced with confidence, and 
hoped he did not intrude upon the ladies. Colonel Mannering, 
In a very upright and stately manner, observed, that he did not 
know to what he was to impute the honour of a visit from Mr. 
Glossin. 

'' Hem ! hem ! — ^I took the liberty to wait upon Miss Bertram, 
Colonel Mannering, on account of a matter of business." 

'^ If it can be communicated to Mr. Mac-Morlan, her agent, 
sir, I believe it will be more agreeable to Miss Bertram." 

^^ I beg pardon, Colonel Mannering," said Glossin, making a 
wretched attempt at an easy demeanour ; '^ you are a man of 
the world — ^there are some cases in which it is most prudent 
for all parties to treat with principals." 

"Then," replied Mannering with a repulsive air, "if Mr. 
Glossin will take the trouble to state his object in a letter, I 
will answer that Miss Bertram pays proper attention to it." 

" Certainly," stammered Glossin ; — " but there are cases in 
which a viva voce conference — Hem ! I perceive — I know — 
that Colonel Mannering has adopted some prejudices which 
may make my visit appear intrusive; but I submit to his 
good sense, whether he ought to exclude me from a hearing 
without knowing the purpose of my visit, or of how much con- 
sequence it may be to the young lady whom he honours with 
his protection." 



OXnr MAKNSRXK6. 24S 

'' Certainly, sir, J have not the least intention to do so/' 
replied the Colond. " I will learn Miss Bertram's pleasure on 
the subject, and acquaint Mr. Glossin, if he can spare time to 
wait for her answer." So saying, he left the room. 

Glossin had still remained standing in the midst of the 
apartment. Colonel Mannering had made not the slightest 
motion to invite him to sit, and indeed had remained standing 
himself during their short interview. When he lefb the room, 
however, Qlossin seized upon a chair, and threw himself into it 
with an air between embarrasfflnent and effixmtery. He felt 
the silence of his companions disconcerting and oppressive, and 
resolved to interrupt it. 

" A fine day, Mr. Sampson." 

The Dominie answered with something between an acquiescent 
grunt and an indignant groan. 

V You never come down to see your old ^uaintanoe on the 
Ellangowan property, Mr. Sampson — ^You would find most of 
fche old stagers still stationary there. I have too much respect 
for the late family to disturb old residenters, even under pre- 
tence of improvement. Besides, it's not my way — I don't like 
it — I believe, Mr. Sampson, Scripture particularly condemns 
those who oppress the poor, and remove hmdmarks." 

''Or who devour the substance of orphans," subjoined the 
Dominie. ''Anathema! Maranathal" So saying, he rose, 
shouldered the folio which he had been perusing, faced to the 
right about, and marched out of the room with the strides of a 
grenadier. 

Mr. Glossin, no way disconcerted, at least feeling it necessary 
not to appear so, turned to young Hazlewood, who was appar- 
ently busy with the newspaper. " Any news, sir f " Hazlewood 
raised his eyes, looked at him, and pushed the paper towards 
him, as if to a stranger in a coffee-house, then rose, and was 
about to leave the room. " I beg pardon, Mr. Hazlewood — 
bat I can't help wishing you joy of getting so easily over that 
infernal accident." This was answered by a sort of inclination 
of the head, as slight and stiff as could well be imagined. Yet 
it encouraged our man of law to proceed. " I can promise you, 
Mr. Hazlewood, few people have taken the interest in that' 
matter which I have done, both for the sake of the country, 
and on account of my particular respect for your family, which 
has so high a stake in it ; indeed so very high a stake, that, as 



244 WAVERllEY NOVELS 

Mr. Featherhead is turning old now, and as there's a talk, since 
his last stroke, of his taking the Ohiltem Hundreds,* it might 
be worth your while to look about you. I speak as a friend, 
Mr. Hazlewood, and as one who understands ^e roll ; and if in 
going over it together" 

" I beg pardon, sir, but I have no views in which your assist- 
ance could be useful." 

" 0, very well — ^perhaps you are right — ^it's quite time enough, 
and I love to see a young gentleman cautious. But I was talking 
of your wound — I think I have got a clew to that business — 
I tiiink I have — and if I don't bring the fellow to condign 
punishment !" — — 

" I beg your pardon, sir, once more ; but your zeal outruns 
my wishes. I have every reason to think the wound was 
accidental — certainly it was not premeditated. Against ingra- 
titude and premeditated treachery, should you find anyone 
guilty of them, my resentment will be as warm as your own." 
This was Hazlewood's answer. 

" Another rebuff," thought Glossin ; " I must try him upon 

the other tack. Eight sir ; very nobly said ! I would have 

no more mercy on an ungrateftd man than I would on a wood- 
cock. — ^And now we talk of sport," (this was a sort of diverting* 
of the conversation which Glossin had learned from his former 
patron), " I see you often carry a gun, and I hope you will 
be soon able to take the field again. I observe you confine 
yourself always to your own side of the Hazleshaws-bum. I 
hope, my dear sir, you will make no scruple of following your 
game to the EUangowan bank : I believe it is rather the best 
exposure of the two for woodcocks, although both are capital." 

As this offer only excited a cold and constrained bow, Glossin 
was obliged to remain silent, and was presently afterwards 
somewhat relieved by the entrance of Colonel Mannering. 

" I have detained you some time, I fear, sir," said he, address- 
ing Glossin : ''I wished to prevail upon Miss Bertram to see 
you, as, in my opinion, her objections ought to give way to the 
necessity of hearing in her own person what is stated to be of 

* (** The Chiltem Hundreds is an estate of the Crown in Buckingham- 
shire, the stewardship whereof is a nominal office, conferred on Members 
of Parliament, when they wish to vacate" their seats, as, hy accepting an 
office.under the Crown, a member becomes disqualified, unless he be again 
'etumed by his constituents." Haydn's Dicty. of Dates.) 



GXJT MANNEBING. 246 

importance that she should know. But I find that circum- 
stances of recent occurrence, and not easily to be forgotten, 
have rendered her so utterly repiignant to a personal interview 
with Mr. Glossin, that it would be cruelty to insist upon it : 
and she has deputed me to receive his commands, or proposal — 
or, in short, whatever he may wish to say to her." 

" Hem, hem ! I am sorry, sir — I am very sorry, Colonel 
Mannering, that Miss Bertram should suppose — that any pre- 
judice, in short — or idea that anything on my part" 

" Sir," said the inflexible Colonel, " where no accusation is 
made, excuses or explanations are unnecessary. Have you any 
objection to communicate to me, as Miss Bertram's temporary 
guardian, the circumstances which you conceive to interest her 1" 

"Kone, Colonel Mannering; she could not choose a more 
respectable friend, or one with whom I, in particular, would 
more anxiously wish to communicate franldy." 

" Have the goodness to speak to the point, sir, if you please." 

" Why, sir, it is not so easy all at once — ^but Mr. Hazlewood 
need not leave the room — I mean so well to Miss Bertram, that 
r could wish the whole world to hear my part of the conference." 

"My friend Mr. Charles Hazlewood will not probably be 
anxious, Mr. Glossin, to listen to what cannot concern him — 
and now, when he has left us alone, let me pray you to be short 
and explicit in what you have to say. I am a soldier, sir, 
somewhat impatient, of forms and introductions." So saying, 
he drew himself up in his chair, and waited for Mr. Glossin's 
communication. 

"Be pleased to look at that letter," said Glossin, putting 
Protocol's epistle into Mannering*s hand, as the shortest way of 
stating his business. 

The Colonel read it, and returned it, after pencilling the 
name of the writer in his memorandum-book. " This, sir, does 
not seem to require much discussion — I will see that Miss 
Bei tram V interest is attended to." 

"But, sir — ^but, Colonel Mannering," added Glossin, "there 
is another matter which no one can explain but myself. This 
lady — this Mrs. Margaret Bertram, to my certain knowledge, 
made a general settlement of her affairs in Miss Lucy Bertram's 
favour while she lived with my old friend, Mr. Bertram, at 
Ellangowan. The Dominie — ^that was the name by which mjf 
deceased friend always called that very respectable mai? Mr 



846 WAYBBLBT KOVSLS. 

Sampson — ^he and I witnessed the deed. And she had . fdll 
power at that time to make such a settlement, for she was in 
fee of the estate of Singleside even then, although it was life- 
rented by an elder sister. It was a whimsical settlement of old 
Singleside's, sir ; he pitted the two cats his daughters against 
each other — ^ha ! ha ! ha !" 

" Well, sir," said Mannering, without the slightest smile of 
sympathy — ** but to the purpose. You say that this lady had 
power to settle her estate on Miss Bertram, and that she did so ?'' 

''Even so. Colonel,'' replied Glossin. ''I think I should 
understand the law — ^I have followed it for many years, and 
though I have given it up to retire upon a handsome competence, 
I did not throw away that knowledge which is pronounced better 
than house and land, and which I take to be the knowledge of 
the law, sinoe, as our common rhyme has it, 

'Tis most excellent, 

To win the land that's gone and spent, 

No, no — ^I love the smack of the whip — I have a little, a very 
littie law yet, at the service of my Mends." 

Glossin ran on in this manner, thinking he had made a 
favourable impression on Mannering. The Colonel indeed 
reflected that this might be a most important crisis for Miss 
Bertram's interest, and resolved that his strong inclination to 
throw Glossin out at window, or at door, should not interfere 
with it. He put a strong curb on his temper, and resolved to 
listen with patience at least, if without complacency. He there- 
fore let Mr. Glossin get to the end of his self-congratulations, 
and then asked him if he knew where the deed was 1 

" I know — ^that is, I think — I believe I can recover it. In 
such cases custodiers have sometimes made a charge." 

" We won't differ as to that, sir," said the Colonel, taking 
out his pocket-book. 

" But, my dear sir, you take me so very short, I said &yme 
persofis might make such a claim — I mean for payment of the 
expenses of the deed, trouble in the affair, etc. But I, for my 
own part, only wish Miss Bertram and her friends to be satisfied 
that I am acting towards her with honour. There's the paper, 
sir ! It would have been a satisfaction to me to have delivered 
it into Miss Bertram's own hands, and to have wished her joy 
of the prospects which it opens. But since her pregudioes on 



GTTY MAHNEBINO. 247 

the subject; are mvincible, it only r^nams for me to transmit 
her my best wishes through you, Colonel Mannering, and to 
express that I shall willingly give my testimony in support of 
that deed when I shall be called upon. I have the honour to 
wish you a good morning, sir." 

This parting speech was so well got up, and had so much the 
tone of conscious integrity unjustly sui^cted, that even Colonel 
Mannering was staggered in his bad opinicm. He followed him 
two or three steps, and took leave of him with more politeness 
(though stni cold and formal) than he had paid during his 
visit. Glossin left the house, half pleased with the impression 
he had made, half mortified by the stem caution and proud 
reluctance with which he had been received. ''Colonel Man- 
nering might have had more poUteness,'^ he said to himself — 
'' it is not every man that can bring a good chance of £400 a- 
year to a penniless girL Singleside must be up to £400 a-year 
now — there's Reilageganbeg, Gillifidget, Loverless, Liealone, 
and the Spinster's Knowe — good £400 a-year. Some people 
might have made their own of it in my place — ^and yet, to own 
the truth, after much consideration, I don't see how that is 
possible." 

Glossin was no sooner mounted and gone than the Colonel 
despatched a groom for Mr. Mac-Mprlan, and putting the deed 
into his hand, requested to know if it was likely to be available 
to his friend Lucy Bertram. Mr. Mac-Morlan perused it with 
eyes that sparkled with delight, snapped his fingers repeatedly, 
and at length exclaimed, " Available ! — ^it's as tight as a glove 
— ^naebody could make better wark than Glossin, when he didna 
let down a steek on purpose. But " (his countenance falling) 
" the auld b , that I should say so, might alter at pleasure ?" 

" Ah ! And how shall we know whether she has done soV* 

'* Somebody must attend on Miss Bertram's part when l^e 
repositories of the deceased are opened." 

" Can you go ]" said the Colonel. 

'' I fear I cannot," replied Mac-Morlan ; '' I must attend a 
jury tlaal before our court." 

" Then I will go myself," said the Colonel ; " I'U set out to- 
morrow. Sampson shall go with me — he is witness to this 
settlement. But I shall want a legal adviser." 

*' The gentleman that was lately sheri£f of this county is fajgfa 



248 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

in reputation as a barrister ; I will give you a card of introduc- 
tion to him." 

" What 1 like about you, Mi. Mac-Morlan," said the Colonel, 
*^ is, that you always come straight to the point ; — ^let me have 
it instantly. Shall we tell Miss Lucy her chance of becoming 
an heiress V* 

" Surely, because you must have some powers from her, which 
I will instantly draw out. Besides, I will be caution for her 
prudence, and that she wOl consider it only in the light of a 
chance." 

Mr. Mac-Morlan judged well It could not be discerned 
from Miss Bertram's manner that she founded exulting hopes 
upon the prospect thus unexpectedly opening before her. She 
did, indeed, in the course of the evening, ask Mr. Mac-Morlan, 
as if by accident, what might be the annual income of the 
Hazlewood property; but shall we therefore aver for certain 
that she wsb considering whether an heiress of four hundred 
Bryear might be a suitable match for the young Laird ? 



CHAPTER THIRTY-SIXTH. 

Give me a cup of sack, to make mine eyes look red — 
For I must speak in passion, and I will do it in King Cambyses* vein. 

Henry IV. Part L 

Mannebing, with Sampson for his companion, lost no time 
in his journey to Edinburgh. They travelled in the Colonel's 
pos^chariot, who, knowing his companion's habits of abstraction, 
did not choose to lose him out of his own sight, fsur less to trust 
him on horseback, where, in all probability, a knavish stable- 
boy might with little address have contrived to mount him with 
his face to the tail. Accordingly, with the aid of his valet, who 
attended on horseback, he contrived to bring Mr. Sampson safe 
to an inn in Edinburgh, — for hotels in those days there w«-e 
none, — without any other accident than arose from his straying 
twice upon the road. On one occasion he was recovered by 
Barnes, who understood his humour, when, after engaging in 
close colloquy with the schoolmaster of Moffiit, respecting a 
disputed quantity in Horace's seventh Ode, Book IL, the dispute 



GUY MANNERING. 249 

led on to another controversy, concerning the exact meaning of 
the word MalohaUirOy in that lyric effusion. His second escapade 
waa made for the purpose of visiting the field of Rullion-green, 
which was dear to his Presbyterian predilections. Having got 
out of the carriage for an instant, he saw the sepulchral monu- 
ment of the slain at the distance of about a mile, and was 
arrested by Barnes in his progress up the Pentland Hills, having 
on both occasions forgot his friend, patron, and fellow-traveller, 
as completely as if he had been in the East Indies. On being 
reminded that Colonel Mannering was waiting for him, he uttered 
his usual ejaculation of " Prodigious ! — I was oblivious," and 
then strode back to his post. Barnes was surprised at his 
masters patience on both occasions, knowing by experience how 
little he brooked neglect or delay ; but the Dominie waa in 
every respect a privileged person. His patron and he were 
never for a moment in each other's way, and it seemed obvious 
that they were formed to be companions through life. If 
Mannering wanted a particular book, the Dominie could bring 
it ; if he wished to have accounts simimed up or checked, his 
assistance was equally ready ; if he desired to recall a particular 
passage in the classics, he could have recourse to the Dominie 
as to a dictionary ; and all the whUe, this walking statue was 
neither presuming when noticed, nor sulky when left to himself. 
To a proud, shy, reserved man, and such in many respects was 
Mannering, this sort of living catalogue, and sLnatod auto- 
maton, had all the advantages of a literary dumb-waiter. 

As soon afl they arrived in Edinburgh, and were established 
at the George Inn, near Bristo-Port, then kept by old Cockbum, 
(I love to be particular), the Colonel desired the waiter to 
procure him a guide to Mr. PleydeD's, the advocate, for whom 
he had a letter of introduction from Mr. Mac-Morlan. He 
then commanded Barnes to have an eye to the Dominie, and 
Valked forth with a chairman, who was to usher him to the 
man of law. 

The period was near the end of the American war. The 
desire of room, of air, antl of decent acconmiodation, had not 
as yet made very much progress in the capital of Scotland. 
Some efforts had been made on the south side of the town 
towards building houses within ihemselvesj sa they are empha- 
tically termed ; and the New Town on the north, since so much 
extended, was then just commenced. But the great bulk of 



250 WJIYEBUSY NOYELS. 

the better daaseB, and particularly those coimected with the 
law, still lived in fiats or dungeons of the Old Town. The 
manners also of some of the veterans of the law had not 
admitted iimovation. One or two eminent lawyers still saw 
their clients in taverns, as was the general custom fifty years 
before; and although their habits were already considered as 
old-£a8hioned by the younger bamsters, yet the custom of 
mixing wine and revelry with serious business was still main- 
tained by those senior counsellors, who loved the old road, 
either because it was such, or because they had got too well 
used to it to travel any other. Among those praisers of the 
past time, who with ostentatious obstinacy affected the manners 
of a former generation, was this same Paulus Pleydell, Esq., 
otherwise a good scholar, an excellent lawyer, and a worthy 
man. 

Under the guidance of his trusty attendant, Colonel Man- 
nering, after threading a dark lane or two, read^ the High 
Street, then dlaoging with the voices of oyster-women and the 
bells of pie-men; for it had, as his guide assured him, just 
'^ chappit eight upon the Tron." It was long since Mannering 
had been in the street of a crowded metropolis, which, with its 
noise and clamour, its sounds of trade, of revelry and of license, 
its variety of lights, and the eternally changing bustle of its 
hundred groups, offers, by night especially, a spectacle which, 
though composed of the most vulgar materials when they are 
separately considered, has, when they are combined, a striking 
and poweriul effect on the imagination. The extraordinary 
height of the houses was marked by lights, which, glimmering 
irregularly along their front, ascended so high among the attics, 
that they seemed at length to twinkle in the middle sky. This 
wwp dHoBH, which still subsists in a certain degree, was then 
more imposing, owing to the uninterrupted range of buildings 
on each side, which, broken only at the space where the North 
Bridge joms the main street, formed a superb and uniform 
Place, extending from the front of the Luckenbooths to the 
head of the Canongate, and corresponding in breadth and 
length to the uncommon height *of the buildings on either side. 

Mannering had not much time to look and to admire. His 
conductor hurried him across this striking scene, and suddenly 
dived with him into a veiy steep paved lane. Turning to the 
right, th^ entered a scale-staircase, as it is called, the state of 



GUT MANNEBINQ. 251 

irhicii, fio far as it could be judged of by one^ of his senfies, 
annoyed Mannering's delicacy not a little. When they had 
ascezided cautiously to a considerable height, they heard a 
heavy rap at a door, still two storeys above them. The door 
opened, and immediately ensued the sharp and worrying bark 
of a dog, the squalling of a woman, the screams of an assaulted 
cat, and the hoarse voice of a man, who cried in a most 
imperative tone, "Will ye, Mustard 1 — will yel — down, sir! 
down !" 

"Lord preserve usl" said the female voice, "an he had 
worried our cat, Mr. PleydeU would ne'er hae forgi'en me !'' 

" Awed, my doo, the cat's no a prin the waiur — So he's no 
in, ye say ]" 

" Na, Mr. Pleydell's ne'er in the house on Saturday at e'en," 
answered the female voice. 

" And the mom's Sabbath too," said the querist ; " I dinna 
ken what will be done." 

By this time Mannering appeared, and found a tall strong 
countryman, clad in a coat of pepper-and-salt coloured mizture, 
with huge metal buttons, a glazed hat and boots, and a large 
horsewhip beneath his arm, in colloquy with a sHfHshod damsel, 
who had in one hand the lock of the door, and in the other a 
pail of whiting, or camstcme, as it is called, mixed with water — 
a circumstance which indicates Saturday night in Edinburgh. 

" So Mr. PleydeU is not at home, my good girl ?" said 
Mannering. 

" Ay, sir, he's at hame, but he's no in the house : he's aye 
out on Saturday at e'en." 

"But, my good girl, I am a stranger,, and my business 
express. — ^WiQ you tell me where I can find him ?" 

"His honour," said the chairman, "will be at Clerihugh's 
about this time — Hersell could hae teU'd ye that, but she 
thought ye wanted to see his house." 

" Well, then, show me to this tavern — ^I suppose he will see 
me, as I come on business of some consequence ?" 

"I dinna ken, sir," said the girl; "he disna like to be 
disturbed on Saturdays wi' business — but he's aye civil to 
strangers." 

" I'll gang to the tavern too," said our friend Dinmont, " for 
I am a stranger also, and on business e'en sic like." 

" Na." said the handmaiden, " an he see the fifentleman. hel) 



262 WAVERLET NOVELS. 

see the simple body too — ^but, Lord's sake, dinna say it was me 
sent ye there !" 

** Atweel, I'm a simple body, that's tnie, himiey, but I am 
no come to steal ony o' his skeel for naething/' said the farmer 
in his honest pride, and strutted away down stairs, followed by 
Mannering and the cadie. Mani^^ring could not help admiring 
the determined stride with which the stranger who preceded 
them divided the press, shouldering from him, by the mere 
weight and impetus of his motion, both dnmk and sober 
passengers. " He'll be a Teviotdale tup tat ane," said the 
chairman, "tat's for keeping ta crown o' ta causeway tat gate ; 
he'll no gang far or he'll get somebody to bell ta cat wi' him." 

His shrewd augury, however, was not fulfilled. Those who 
recoiled from the colossal weight of Dinmont, on looking up at 
his size and strength, apparently judged him too heavy metal 
to be raflhly encountered, and suffered him to pursue his course 
unchallenged. Following in the wake of this first-rate, Man- 
nering proceeded till the fiEumer made a pause, and, looking 
back to the chairman, said, "Tm thinking this wOl be the 
close, friend 1" 

" Ay, ay," replied Donald, " tat's ta close." 

Dinmont descended confidently, then turned into a dark alley 
— then up a dark stair — and then into an open door. While 
he was whistling shrilly for the waiter, as if he had been one of 
bis collie dogs, Mannering looked round him, and could hardly 
conceive how a gentleman of a liberal profession, and good 
society, should choose such a scene for social indulgence. Be- 
sides the miserable entrance, the house itself seemed paltry and 
half ruinous. The pafisage in which they stood had a window 
to the close, which admitted a little light during the day-time, 
and a villanous compound of smells at all times, but more 
especially towards evening. Corresponding to this window was 
a borrowed light on the other side of the passage, looking into 
the kitchen, which had no direct communication with the free 
air, but received in the day-time, at second hand, such straggling 
and obscure light as found its way from the lane through the 
window opposita At present, the interior of the kitchen was 
visible by its own huge fires — a sort of pandemonium, where 
men and women, half undressed, were busied in baking, broil- 
ing, roasting oysters, and preparing devils on the gridiron ; the 
mistress of the place, with her shoes slip-«bod, and her hair 



GUY MANNEKING- 263 

Straggling like that of Magaera from under a round-eared cap, 
toiling, scolding, receiving orders, giving them, and obeying 
them all at once, seemed the presiding enchantress of that 
gloomy and fiery region. 

Loud and repeated bursts of laughter, from different quarters 
of the house, proved that her labours were acceptable, and not 
unrewarded by a generous public. With some difficulty a waiter 
was prevailed upon to show Colonel Mannering and Dinmont 
the room where their friend, learned in the law, held his heb- 
domadal carousals. The scene which it exhibited, and parti- 
cularly the attitude of the counsellor himself, the principal figure 
therein, struck his two clients with amazement. 

Mr. Pleydell was a lively, sharp-looking gentleman, with a 
professional shrewdness in his eye, and, generally speaking, a 
professional formality in his manners. But this, like his three- 
tailed wig and black coat, he could slip off on a Saturday evening, 
when surrounded by a party of jolly companions, and disposed 
for what he called his altitudes. On the present occasion, the 
revel had lasted since four o'clock, and at .length, under the 
direction of a venerable compotator, who had shared the sports 
and festivity of three generations, the firolicspme company had 
begun to practise the ancient and now forgotten pastime of 
High Jinks* This game was played in several different ways. 
Most frequently the dice were thrown by the company, and those 
upon whom the lot fell were obliged to assume and maintain 
for a time, a certain fictitious character, or to repeat a certain 
number of fescennine verses in a particular order. If they 
departed from the characters assigned, or if their memory proved 
treacherous in the repetition, they incurred forfeits, which were 
either compounded for by swallowing an additional bumper, or 
by paying a small sum towards the reckoning. At this sport 
the jovial* company were closely engaged, when Mannering 
entered the room. 

Mr. Counsellor Pleydell, such as we have described him, was 

enthroned, as a monarch, in an elbow-chair, placed on the 

dining-table, his scratch wig on one side, his head crowned with 

a bottle-slider, his eye leering with an expression betwixt frm 

and the effects of wine, while his court around him resounded 

with such crambo scraps of verse as these : — 

Where is Genmto now ? and what s become of him ? 
Geronto's drowned because he could not swim, etc. etc. 

Note a High Jinks. ~^ 



K4 WAVniEY NOVELS. 

Saoh, O Tfamnis, were ancientlj the sports of thy Soottisb 
children ! Dinmont was first in the room. He stood aghast 
a moment,' — and then exclaimed, ''It's him, sure enongh-;- 
Deil o' the like o' that ever I saw !" 

At the somid of "Mr. Dinmont and Colonel Mannermg 
wanting to speak to you, sir," Pleydell turned his head, and 
blushed a little when he saw the veiy genteel figure of the 
English stranger. He was, however, of the opinion of Falstaff, 
''Out, ye villains, play out the play !" wisely judging it the 
better way to appear totally unconcerned. "Where be your 
guards?" exclaimed this second Justinian; "see ye not a 
stranger knight from foreign parts arrived at this our court of 
Holyrood, — ^with our bold yeoman Andrew Dinmont, who has 
succeeded to the keeping of our royal flocks withib the forest of 
Jedwood, where, thanks to our royal care, in the administration 
of justice, they feed as safe as if they were within the bounds of 
Fife) Where be our heralds, our pursuivants, our Lyon, our 
Marchmount, our Oarrick, and our Snowdown ? Let the strangers 
be placed at our board, and regaled as beseemeth their quality, 
and thi3 our high holiday — to-morrow we will hear their 
tidings." 

" So please you, my liege, to-morrow's Sunday," said one of 
the company. 

" Sunday, is it ) then we will give no offence to the assembly 
of the kirk — on Monday shall be their audience." 

Mannering, who had stood at first uncertain whether to 
advance or retreat, now resolved to enter for the moment into 
the whim of the scene, though internally fretting at Mac-Morlan 
for sending him to consult with a cracked-brained humorist 
He therefore advanced with three j>rofound congees, and craved 
permission to lay his credentials at the foot of the Scottish 
monarch, in order to be perused at his best leisiore. The 
gravity with which he accommodated himself to the humour of 
the moment, and the deep and humble inclination with which 
he at first declined, and then accepted, a seat presented by the 
master of the ceremonies, procured him three rounds of applausei 

" Dell hae me, if they arena a' mad thither !" said Dinmont, 
ooeupying with less ceremony a seat at the bottom of the tabl^ 
" or else they hae taen Yule before it comes, and are gaun a- 
guisarding." 

A large glass of claret was offered to Mannering, who drank 



OUT MAlfNERING. 255 

it to the health of the reigning prince. '^ You are, I presume 
to guess/' said the monarch, '' that celebrated Sir Miles Manner- 
ing, 80 renowned in the Frendi wars, and may weU pronounce 
to us if the wines of Grascony lose their flavour in our more 
northern realm/' 

Mannering, agreeably flattered by this allusion to the fame of 
his celebrated ancestor, replied, by prbfessing himself only a 
distant relation of the preux chevalier, and added, '^ that, in his 
opinion, the wine was superlatively good." 

'^ It's ower cauld for my stamach," said Binmont, setting down 
the glass (empty, however). 

"We will correct that quality," answered King Paulus, the 

first of the name ; " we have not forgotten that the moist and 

humid air of our valley of liddel inclines to stronger potations. 

' — Seneschal, let our fkithful yeoman have a cup of brandy ; it 

will be more germain to the matter." 

"And now," said Mannering, "since we have unwarily in- 
truded upon your migesty at a moment of mirthful retirement, 
be pleased to say when you wiU indulge a stranger with an 
audience on^ those affairs of weight which have brought him to 
your northern capital" 

The monarch opened Mac-Morlan's letter, and, running it 
hastily over, exclaimed with his natural voice and manner, 
" Lucy Bertram of Ellangowan, poor dear lassie !" 

"A forfeit! a forfeit!" exclaimed a dozen voices; "his 
majesty has forgot his kingly character." 

"Not a whit! not a whit!" replied the king; — "I'll be 
judged by this courteous knight. May not a monarch love a 
maid of low degree 1 Is not King Ck)phetua and the Beggar- 
maid an adjudged case in point ?" 

"Professional! professional! — another forfeit!" exclaimed 
the tumultuary nobility. 

"Had not our royal predecessoife," continued the monarch, 
exalting his sovereign voice to drown these disaffected clamours 
— " had they not their Jean Logics, their Bessie Oarmichaels, 
their Oliphants, their Sandilands, and their Weirs, and shall it 
be denied to us even to name a maiden whom we delight to 
honour ? Nay, then, sink state, and perish sovereignty ! for, like 
a second Charles Y., we will abdicate, and seek in l^e private 
shades of life those pleasures which are denied to a throna" 

So saying, he flung away his crown, and sprung from hii 



256 WAVERLEY NOVELS, 

exalted station witL more agility than could have been expected 
from his age, ordered lights and a wash-hand basin and towel, 
with a cup of green tea, into another room, and made a sign to 
Mannering to accompany him. In less than two minutes he 
washed his face and hands, settled his wig in the glass, and, to 
Mannering's great surprise, looked quite a dififerent man from 
the childish Bacchanal he had seen a moment before. 

"There are folks," he said, "Mr. Mannering, before whom 
one should take care how they play the fool — because they 
have either too much malice, or too little wit, as the poet says. 
The best compliment I can pay Colonel Mannering, is to show 
I am not ashamed to expose myself before him — and truly I 
think it is a compliment I have not spared to-night on your 
good-nature. — But what's that great strong fellow wanting 1" 

Dinmont, who had pushed after Mannering into the room,' 
began with a scrape of his foot and a scratch of his head in 
unison. " J am Dandie Dinmont, sii", of the Charlies-hope — 
the Liddesdale lad — ^ye'll mind me 1 It was for me you won 
yon grand plea," 

" What plea, you loggerhead 1" said the laywer ; " d*ye think 
I can remember all the fools that come to plague me?" 

" Lord, sir, it was* the grand plea about the grazing o' the " 
Langtae-head," said the farmer. 

" Well, curse thee, never mind ; — ^give me the memorial,* 
and come to me on Monday at ten," replied the learned counsel. 

" But, sir, I haena got ony distinct memorial." 

" No memorial, man 1" said Pleydell. 

"Na, sir, nae memorial," answered Dandie; "for your 
honour said before, Mr. Pleydell, ye'U mind, that ye liked best 
to hear us hill-folk teU our ain tale by word o* mouth." 

" Beshrew my tongue that said so !" answered the counsellor ; 
" it wOl cost my ears a dinning. — ^WeU, say in two words what 
youVe got to say — ^you see the gentleman waits." 

" Ou, sir, if the gentleman likes he may play his ain spring 
first ; it*s a' ane to Dandie." 

"Now, you looby," said the lawyer, "cannot you conceive 
that your business can be nothing to Colonel Mannering, but 
that he may not choose to have these great ears of thine regaled 
with his matters 1" 

" Aweel, sir, just as you and he like, so ye see to my busi- 
* Flcottisli memorial corresponds to the English brief. 



GUY MANNERINa. 267 

r 

ness," said Dandle, not a whit disconcerted by the roughness 
of this reception. "We're at the auld wark o' the marchee 
again, Jock o' Dawston Cleugh and me. Ye see we inarch on 
the tap o' Touthop-rigg after we pass the Pomoragrains ; for 
the Pomoragrains, and Slackenspool, and Bloodylaws, they 
come in there, and they belang to the Peel ; but after ye pass 
Pomoragrains at a muckle great saucer-headed cutlugged stane, 
that they ca* Charlies Chuckie, there Dawston Cleugh and 
Charlies-hope they march. Now, I say, the march rins on the 
tap o' the hill where the wind and water shears ; but Jock o' 
Dawston Cleugh again, he contravenes that, and says that it 
bauds down by the auld drove-road that gaes awa by the Knot 
o' the Gate ower to Keeldar-ward — and that makes an unco 
difference." 

"And what difference does it make, friend?" said Pleydell. 
" How many sheep will it feed 1" 

"Ou, no mony," said Dandie, scratching his head; "it's 
lying high and exposed — ^it may feed a hog, or aiblins twa in a 
good year." 

" And for this grazing, which may be worth about five shillings 
aryear, you are willing to throw away a hundred pound or two V* 

" Na, sir, it's no for the value of the grass," replied Dinmont, 
" it's for justice." 

" My good friend," said Pleydell, "justice, like charity, should 
begin at home. Do you justice to your wife and family, and 
think no more about the matter." 

Dinmont still lingered, twisting his hat in his hand — " It's 
no for that, sir — ^but I would like ill to be bragged wi' him ; — 
he threeps he'll bring a score o' witnesses and mair — ^and I'm 
sure there's as mony will swear for me as for him, folk that 
lived a' their days upon the Charlies-hope, and wadna like to 
see the land lose its right." 

" Zounds, man, if it be a point of honour," said the lawyer, 
" why don't your landlords take it up 1" 

"I dinna ken, sir," (scratching his head again); "there's 
been nae election-dusts lately, and the lairds are unco neigh- 
bourly, and Jock and me cannot get them to yoke thegither 
about it a' that we can say ; but if ye thought we might keep 
up the rent" 

" No ! no ! that will never do," said Pleydell ; — " confound 
you, why don't you take good cudgels and settle it?" 

VOL. n. 8 



258 WAVERLEY NOVBIiS. 

" Od, sir," answered the farmer, " we tried that three times 
already — ^that's twice on the land and ance at Lockerby fair. 
But I dinna ken — ^we*re baith gey good at single-stick, and it 
couldna weel be judged." 

"Then take broadswords, and be d — d to you, as your 
fathers did before you," said the counsel learned in the law. 

" Aweel, sir, if ye think it wadna be again the law, it's a' ane 
to Dandle." 

** Hold ! hold ! " exclaimed Pleydell, " we shall have another 
Lord Soulis* mistake* — Pr'ythee, man, comprehend me; I wish 
you to consider how very trifling and foolish a lawsuit you wish 
to engage in." 

"Ay, sirl" said Dandle, in a disappointed tone. "So ye 
winna take on wi' me, Tm doubting 1" 

" Me ! not I — Go home, go home, take a pint and agree." 
Dandle looked but half contented, and still remained stationary. 
" Anything more, my friend 1 " 

" Only, sir, about the succession of this leddy that's dead — 
auld Miss Margaret Bertram o' Singleside." 

"Ay, what about herl" said the counsellor, rather surprised. 

" Ou, we have nae connection at a' wi' the Bertrams," said 
Dandie — " they were grand folk by the like o' us. — But Jean 
Liltup, that was auld Singleside's housekeeper, and the mother 
of these twa young ladies that are gane — ^the last o' them's 
dead at a ripe age, I trow — Jean Liltup came out o' Liddel 
water, and she was as near our connection as second cousin to 
my mother's half sister. She drew up wi' Singleside, nae doubt, 
when she was his housekeeper, and it was a sair vex and grief 
to a' her kith and kin. But he acknowledged a marriage, and 
satisfied the kirk — and now I wad ken frae you if we hae not 
some daim by law 1" 

" Not the shadow of a claim." 

" Aweel, we're nae puirer," said Dandie — " but she may hae 
thought on us if she was minded to make a testament. — ^Weel, 

sir, I've said my say — ^I'se e'en wish you good-night, and"^ 

puttmg his hand in his pocket. 

" No, no, my friend ; I never take fees on Saturday night, 
or without a memorial — away with you, Dandie." And Dandie 
made his reverence, and departed accordingly. 

* [S«e Minstrelsy, voL iv. p. 241.— This Border tyrant was boiled in his owz; 
cauldron at Ihe Jooular suggestion of the king,] 



GUT lifANNERING, 259 



OHAPTEE THIRTY-SEVENTH. 

But this poor farce has neither truth, nor art, 
To please the fancy or to touch the heart 
Bark but not awful, dismal but yet mean, 
With anxious bustle moves the cumbrous scene ; 
Presents no objects tender or profound, 
But spreads its cold unmeaning gloom around. 

Parish Reqistek 

" YouB majesty," said Mannering, laughing, " has solemnized 
your abdication by an act of mercy and charity. — That fellow 
will scarce think of going to law." 

"Oh, you are quite wrong," said the experienced lawyer. 
* The only difference is, I have lost my client and my fee. 
He'll never rest till he finds somebody to encourage him to 
commit the folly he has predetermined. — "No ! no ! I have only 
shown you another weakness of my character — ^I always speak 
truth of a Saturday night." 

" And sometimes through the week, I should think," said 
Manneriag, continuing the same tone. 

" Why, yes ; as far as my vocation will permit. I am, as 
Hamlet says, indifferent honest, when my clients and their 
solicitors do not make me the medium of conveying their 
double-distilled lies to the bench. But oportet vivere / it is a sad 
thing. — ^And now to our business. I am glad my old friend 
Mac-Morlan has sent you to me ; he is an active, honest, and 

intelligent man, long sheriff-substitute of the coimty of 

under me, and still holds the office. He knows I have a regard 
for that unfortunate family of Ellangowan, and for poor Lucy. 
I have not seen her since she was twelve years old, and she 
was then a sweet pretty girl under the management of a very 
silly father. But my interest in her is of an early date. I 
was called upon, Mr. Mannering, being then sheriff of that 
county, to investigate the particulars of a murder which had 
been committed near Ellangowan the day on which this poor 
child was bom; and which, by a strange combination that I 
was unhappily not able to trace, involved the death or abstrac- 
tion of her only brother, a boy of about five years old. No, 
Oolonel. I shall never forget the miseiy of the house of Elian- 



260 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

gowan that morning ! — the father half-distracted — the mother 
dead in premature travail — ^the helpless infant, with scarce any 
one to attend it, coming wawling and crying into this miserable 
world at such a moment of unutterable misery. We lawyers 
are not of iron, sir, or of brass, any more than you soldiers are 
of steel. We are conversant with the crimes and distresses of 
civil society, as you are with those that occur in a state of war — 
and to do our duty in either case, a little apathy is perhaps 
necessary. — But the devil take a soldier whose heart can be as 
hard as his sword, and his dam catch the lawyer who bronzes 
his bosom instead of his forehead ! — But come, I am losing my 
Saturday at e*en — ^will you have the kindness to trust me with 
these papers which relate to Miss Bertram's business? — ^And 
stay — ^to-morrow you'll take a bachelor's dinner with an old 
lawyer, — I insist upon it, at three precisely — and come an hour 
sooner. — The old lady is to be buried on Monday; it is the 
orphan's cause, and well borrow an hour from the Sunday to 
talk over this business — although I fear nothing can be done 
if she has altered her settlement — unless perhaps it occurs 
within the sixty days, and then if Miss Bertram can show that 
she possesses the character of heir-at-law, why 

" But, hark ! my lieges are impatient of their interregnum — 
I do not invite you to rejoin us, Colonel ; it would be a trespass 
on your complaisance, unless you had begun the day with us, 
and gradually glided on from wisdom to mirth, and from mirth 
to — ^to — ^to — extravagance. — Good night. — ^Harry, go home with 
Mr. Mannering to his lodging. — Colonel, I expect you at a little 
past two to-morrow." 

The Colonel returned to his inn, equally surprised at the 
childish frolics in which he had found his learned counsellor 
engaged, at the candour and sound sense which he had in a 
moment sunmioned up to meet the exigencies of his profession, 
and at the tone of feeling which he displayed when he spoke of 
the friendless orphan. 

In the morning, while the Colonel and his most quiet and 
silent of all retainers, Dominie Sampson, were finishing the 
breakfast which Barnes had made and poured out, after the 
Dominie had scalded hbiself in the attempt, Mr. Pleydell was 
suddenly ushered in. A nicely-dressed bob-wig, upon every 
hair of which a zealous and careful barber had bestowed its 
proper allowance of powder; a weD -brushed black suit, with 



GUY MANNERING. 261 

very clean shoes and gold buckles and stock-buckle : a manner 
rather reserved and formal than intrusive^ but, withal, showing 
only the formality of manner, by no means that of awkwardness ; 
a countenance the expressive and somewhat comic features of 
which were in complete repose, — ^all showed a being perfectly 
different from the choice spirit of the evening before. A glance of 
shrewd and piercing fire in his eye was the only marked expression 
which recalled the man of " Saturday at e'en.'' 

" I am come," said he, with a very polite address, " to use my 
regal authority in your behalf in spirituals as well as temporals 
—can I accompany you to the Presbyterian kirk, or Episcopal 
meeting-house 1 Tros Tyrmsve — a lawyer, you know, is of both 
religions, or rather I should say of both forms — or can I assist in 
passing the forenoon otherwise 1 You'll excuse my old-fashioned 
importunity — ^I was bom in a time when a Scotchman was thought 
inhospitable if he left a guest alone a moment, except when he 
slept — but I trust you will tell me at once if I intrude." 

" Not at all, my dear sir," answered Colonel Mannering — " I 
am delighted to put myself imder your pilotage. I should wish 
much to hear some of your Scottish preachers whose talents 
have done such honour to your coimtry — ^your Blair, your Robert- 
son, or your Henry ; and I embrace your kind offer with all my 
heart. — Only," drawing the lawyer a little aside, and turning 
his eye towards Sampson, ''my worthy friend there in the 
reverie is a little helpless and abstracted, and my servant, 
Barnes, who is his pilot in ordinary, cannot well assist him here, 
especially as he has expressed his determination of going to some 
of your darker and more remote places of worship." 

The lawyer's eye glanced at Dominie Sampson. '' A curiosity 
worth preserving — and I'll find you a fit custodier. — Here you, 
sir" (to the waiter), "go to Luckie Finlayson's in the Cowgate 
for Miles Macfin the cadie* — She'll be there about this time, — 
and tell him I wish to speak to him." 

The person wanted soon arrived. " I will commit your friend 
to this man's charge," said Pleydell; "he'll attend him, or 
conduct him wherever he chooses to go, with a happy indiffer- 
ence as to kirk or market, meeting or court of justice, or — any 
other place whatever, and bring him safe home at whatever 
hour you appoint ; so that Mr. Barnes there may be left to the 
freedom of his own will" 

* (ADKlice, street-poriflr). 



262 WAVEKLEY NOVELS. 

This was easily arranged, and the Colonel committed the 
Dominie to the charge of this man while they should remain 
in Edinburgh. 

" And now, sir, if you please, we shall go to the Greyfriara 
church, to hear our historian of Scotland, of the Continent, and 
of America." 

They were disappointed — ^he did not preach that morning. — 
" Never mind," said the counsellor, " have a moment's patience, 
and we shall do very weU." 

The colleague of Dr. Robertson ascended the pulpit.* His 
external appearance was not prepossessing. A remarkably fair 
complexion, strangely contrasted with a black wig without a 
grain of powder ; a narrow chest and a stooping posture ; hands 
which, placed like props on either side of the pulpit, seemed 
necessary rather to support the person than to assist the gesti- 
culation of the preacher, — ^no gown, not even that of Geneva, 
a tumbled band, and a gesture which seemed scarce volimtary, 
were the first circumstances which struck a stranger. "The 
preacher seems a very ungainly person," whispered Mannering 
to his new Mend. 

"Never fear; he's the son of an excellent Scottish lawyer + 
^-he'll show blood, I'll warrant him." 

The learned counsellor predicted truly. A lecture was de- 
Uvered, fraught with new, striking, and entertaining views of 
Scripture history — a sermon, in which the Calvinism of the 
Kirk of Scotland was ably supported, yet made the basis of a 
soimd system of practical morals, which should neither shelter 
the sinner imder the cloak of speculative faith or of peculiarity 
of opinion, nor leave him loose to the waves of unbelief and 
schism. Something there was of an antiquated turn of argu- 
ment and metaphor, but it only served to give zest and pecu- 
liarity to the style of elocution. The sermon was not read — 
a scrap of paper containing the heads of the discourse was oc- 
casionally referred to, and the enimciation, which at first seemed 
imperfect and embarrassed, became, as the preacher warmed in 
his progress, animated and distinct ; and although the discourse 

* This was the celebrated Dr. Erskine, a distinguished clergyman, and 
a most excellent man. 

+ The father of Dr. Erskine was an eminent lawyer, and his Institutes 
of the Law of Scotland are to this day the text-hook of students of that 
science. 



GUY MANNERING. 263 

could not be quoted as a correct specimen of pulpit eloquence, 
yet Mannenng had seldom heard so much learning, metaphysical 
acuteness, and energy of argument, brought into the service of 
Christianity. 

" Such," he said, going out of the church, " must have been 
the preachers to whose unfearing minds, and acute, though 
sometimes rudely exercised talents, we owe the Reformation." 

" And yet that reverend gentleman," said Pleydell, " whom I 
love for his father's sake and his own, has nothing of the sour 
or Pharisaical pride which has been imputed to some of the 
early fathers of the Calvinistic Kirk of Scotland. His colleague 
and he differ, and head different parties in the Kirk, about 
particular points of church discipline, but without for a moment 
losing personal regard or respect for each other, or suflfering 
malignity to interfere in an opposition, steady, constant, and 
apparently conscientious on both sides." 

" And you, Mr. Pleydell, what do you think of their points 
of difference?" 

"Why, I hope, Colonel, a plain man may go to heaven 
without thinking about them at aU ; — ^besides, inter nos, I am 
a member of the suffering and Episcopal church of Scotland — 
the shadow of a shade now, and fortunately so ; — ^but I love to 
pray where my fathers prayed before me, without thinking 
worse of the Presbyterian forms because they do not affect me 
with the same associations." And with this remark they parted 
until dinner-time. 

From the awkward access to the lawyer's mansion, Mannering 
was induced to form very moderate expectations of the enter- 
tainment which he was to receive. The approach looked even 
more dismal by day-light than on the preceding evening. The 
houses on each side of the lane were so dose, that the neighbours 
might have shaken hands with each other from the different 
sides, and occasionally the space between was traversed by 
wooden galleries, and thus entirely closed up. The stair, the 
scale-stair, was not well cleaned; and on entering the house, 
Mannering was struck with the narrowness and meanness of the 
wainscotted passage. But the library, into which he was shown 
by an elderly respectable-looking man-servant, was a complete 
contrast to these unpromising appearances. It was a weU-pro- 
portioned room, hung with a portrait or two of Scottish cha- 
racters of eminence, by Jamieson, the Caledonian Vandyke, and 



264 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

surrounded with books, the best .editions of the best authors, 
and Lq particular, an admirable collection of dassics. 

" These," said Pleydell, " are my tools of trade. A lawyer 
without history or literature is a mechanic, a mere working 
mason ; if he possesses some knowledge of these, he may venture 
to call himself an architect.'' 

But Mannering was chiefly delighted with the view from the 
windows, which commanded that mcomparable prospect of the 
ground between Edinburgh and the sea; the Firth of Forth, 
with its islands .; the embayment which is terminated by the 
Law of North Berwick ; and the varied shores of Fife to the 
northward, indenting with a hilly outline the clear blue horizon. 

When Mr. Pleydell had sufficiently enjoyed the surprise of 
his guest, he caUed his attention to Miss Bertram's affairs. '^ I 
was in hopes," he said, " though but faint, to have discovered 
some means of ascertaining her indefeasible right to this property 
of Singleside ; but my researches have been in vain. The old 
lady was certainly absolute fiar, and might dispose of it in full 
right of property. All that we have to hope is, that the devil 
may not have tempted her to alter this very proper settlement. 
You must attend the old girl's funeral to>morrow, to which you 
wiU receive an invitation, for I have acquainted her agent with 
your being here on Miss Bertram's part ; and I will meet you 
afterwards at the house she inhabited, and be present to see 
fair play at the opemng of the settlement. The old cat had a 
little girl, the orphan of some relation, who lived with her as a 
kind of slavish companion. I hope she has had the conscience 
to make her independent, in consideration of the pdne forte et 
dm-e to which she subjected her during her life-time." 

Three gentlemen now appeared, and were introduced to the 
stranger. They were men of good sense, gaiety, and general 
information, so that the day passed very pleasantly over ; and 
Colonel Mannering assisted, about eight o'clock at night, in 
discussiag the landlord's bottle, which was, of course, a ma/g- 
num. Upon his return to the inn, he found a card inviting 
him to the fimeral of Miss Margaret Bertram, late of Singleside, 
which was to proceed from her own house to the place of inter 
ment in the Greyfriars churchyard, at one o'clock afternoon. 

At the appointed hour, Mannering went to a small house in 
the suburbs to the southward of the city, where he found the 
piace of mourning, indicated, as usual in Scotland, by two rueful 



GUT MANNERING. 265 

figures with long black cloaks, white crapes and hat-bands, hold- 
mg in their hands poles, adorned with melancholy streamers of 
the sam« description. By two other mutes, who, from their 
visages, seemed suffering under the pressure of some strange 
calamity, he was ushered into the dining-parlour of the defunct, 
where the company were assembled for the funeral. 

In Scotland, the custom, now disused in England, of inviting 
the relations of the deceased to the interment, is universally 
retained. On many occasions this has a singular and striking 
effect, but it degenerates into mere empty form and grimace, 
in cases where the defunct has had the misfortune to live un- 
beloved and die unlamented. — The English service for the dead, 
one of the most beautiful and impressive parts of the ritual of 
the church, would have, in such cases, the effect of fixing the 
attention, and uniting the thoughts and feelings of the audience 
present, in an exercise of devotion so peculifixly adapted to such 
an occasion. But, according to the Scottish custom, if there be 
aot real feeling among the awistants, there is nothing to supply 
the deficiency, and exalt or rouse the attention ; so that a sense 
of tedious form, and almost hypocritical restraint, is too apt to 
pervade the company assembled for the mournful solemnity. 
Mrs. Margaret Bertram was unluckily one of those whose good 
qualities had attached no general friendship. She had no near 
relations who might have mourned from natural affection, and 
therefore her funeral exhibited merely the exterior trappings of 
sorrow. 

Mannering, therefore, stood among this lugubrious company 
of cousins in the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth degree, composing 
his countenance to the decent solemnity of all who were around 
him, and looking as much concerned on Mrs. Margaret Bertram's 
account, as if the deceased lady of Singleside had been his own 
sister or mother. After a deep and awful pause, the company 
began to talk aside — under their breaths, however, and as if in 
the chamber of a dying person. 

" Our poor friend," said one grave gentleman, scarcely opening 
his mouth for fear of deranging the necessary solenmity of his 
features, and sliding his whisper from between his lips, which 
were as little unclosed as possible — " our poor friend has died 
well to pass in the world." 

" Nae doubt," answered the person addressed, with half-closed 
eyes ; " poor Mrs. Margaret was aye careful of the gear." 



266 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

"Anj news to-day, Colonel Manneringl" said one of the 
gentlemen whom he had dined with the day before, but in a 
tone which might, for its impressive gravity, have communicated 
the death of his whole generation. 

" Nothing particular, I believe, sir," said Mannering, in the 
cadence which was, he observed, appropriated to the house of 
mourning. 

''I understand," continued the first speaker, emphatically, 
and with the air of one who is well informed — " I understand 
there is a settlement." 

"And what does little Jenny Gibson getl" 

" A hundred and the auld repeater." 

" That's but sma' gear, puir thing ; she had a sair time o't 
with the auld leddy. But it's ill waiting for dead folk's shoon." 

" I am afraid," said the politician, who was close by Manner- 
ing, " we have not done with your old friend Tippoo Saib yet — 
I doubt he'll give the company more plague ; and I am told — 
hat youll know for certain — ^that East India Stock is not 
rising." 

" I trust it will, sir, soon." 

" Mrs. Margaret," said another perscJn, mingling in the con- 
versation, " had some India bonds. I know that, for I drew the 
interest for her — it would be desirable now for the trustees and 
legatees to have the Colonel's advice about the time and mode of 
converting them into money. For my part I think — But there's 
Mr. Mortcloke to tell us they are gaun to lift." 

Mr. Mortcloke the undertaker did accordingly, with a visage 
of professional length and most grievous solemnity, distribute 
among the pall-bearers little cards, assigning their respective situa- 
tions in attendance upon the coffin. As this precedence is sup- 
posed to be regulated by propinquity to the defunct, the undertaker, 
however skilful a master of these lugubrious ceremonies, did not 
escape giving some offence. To be related to Mrs. Bertram 
was to be of kin to the lands of Singleside, and was a propinquity 
of which each relative present at that moment was particularly 
jealous. Some murmurs there were on the occasion, and our 
friend Dinmont gave more open offence, being unable either 
to repress his discontent, or to utter it in the key properly modu- 
lated to the solemnity. " I think ye might hae at least gi'en 
me a leg o' her to carry," he exclaimed, in a voice considerably 
louder than propriety admitted. " Grod ! an it hadna l>een for 



GUY MANNERma 267 

the rigs o' land, I would hae gotten her a' to cany mysell, for aa 
mony gentles as are here." 

A score of frowning and reproving brows were bent upon the 
unappalled yeoman, who, having given vent to his displeasure, 
stalked sturdily down stairs with the rest of the company, totally 
disregarding the censures of those whom his remarks had 
scandalized. 

And then the funeral pomp set forth; saulies with their 
batons, and gumphions of tandshed white crape, in honour of 
the well-preserved maiden fame of Mrs. Margaret Bertram. Six 
starved horses, themselves the very emblems of mortality, well 
cloaked and plumed, lugging along the hearse with its dismal 
emblazonry, crept in slow state towards the place of interment, 
preceded by Jamie Duff, an idiot, who with weepers and cravat 
made of white paper, attended on every funeral, and followed 
by six mourning coaches, filled with the company. — Many of 
these now gave more free loose to their tongues, and discussed 
with unrestrained earnestness the amount of the succession, and 
the probability of its destination. The principal expectants, 
however, kept a prudent silence, indeed ashamed to express 
hopes which might prove fallacious ; and the agent, or man of 
business, who alone knew exactly how matters stood, maintained 
a countenance of mysterious importance, as if determined to 
preserve the full interest of anxiety and suspense. 

At length they arrived at the churchyard gates, and from 
thence, amid the gaping of two or three dozen of idle women 
with infants in their arms, and accompanied by some twenty 
children, who ran gambolling and screaming alongside of the 
sable procession, they finally arrived at the burial-place of the 
Singleside family. This was a square enclosure in the Greyfriars 
churchyard, guarded on one side by a veteran angel, without a 
nose, and having only one wing, who had the merit of having 
maintained his post for a century, while his comrade cherub, who 
had stood sentinel on the corresponding pedestal, lay a broken 
trunk among the hemlock, burdock, and nettles, which grew in 
gigantic luxuriance around the walls of the mausoleum. A moss- 
grown and broken inscription informed the reader, that in the 
year 1650 Captain Andrew Bertram, first of Singleside, descended 
of the very ancient and honourable house of Ellangowan, had 
caused this monument to be erected for himself and his descend 
ants. A reasonable number of scythes and hour-glasses, and 



268 WAVBRLEY NOVELS. 

death's heads, and cross-bones, garnished the followinj; sprig 
of sepulchral poetry, to the memory of the founder of the 
mausoleum : — 

Nathaniel's heart, BezaleePs hand, 

If ever any had, 
These boldly do I say had he. 

Who lieth in this bed. 

Here then, araid the deep black fat loam into which her 
ancestors were now resolved, they deposited the body of Mrs. 
Margaret Bertram ; and, like soldiers returning from a military 
funeral, the nearest relations who might be interested in the 
settlements of the lady, urged the dog-cattle of the hackney 
coaches to all the speed of which they were capable, in order to 
put an end to farther suspense on that interesting topic. 



CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHTH. 

Die and endow a college or a cat. 

Pope. 

Theke is a fable told by Lucian, that while a troop of 
monkeys, well drilled by an intelligent manager, were perform- 
ing a tragedy with great applause, the decorum of the whole 
scene was at once destroyed, and the natural passions of the 
actors called forth in a very indecent and active emulation, by 
a wag who threw a handful of nuts upon the stage. In like 
manner, the approaching crisis stirred up among the expectants 
feelings of a nature very different from those of which, under 
the superintendence of Mr. Mortcloke, they had but now been 
endeavouring to imitate the expresssion. Those eyes which 
were lately devoutly cast up to heaven, or with greater humility 
bent solemnly upon earth, were now sharply and alertly dart- 
ing their glances through shuttles, and trunks, and drawers, and 
cabinets, and all the odd comers of an old maiden lady's reposi- 
tories. Nor was their search without interest, though they did 
not find the will of which they were in quest. 

Here was a promissory-note for £20 by the minister of the 
nonjuring chapel, interest marked as paid to Martinmas last, 
carefully folded up in a new set of words to the old tune of 



GUT MANNERING. 269 

**Over the Water to Charlie;" — there, was a curious love cor- 
respondence between the deceased and a certain Lieutenant 
O'Kean, of a marching regiment of foot ; and tied up with the 
letters was a document, which at once explained to the relatives 
why a connection that boded them little good had been suddenly 
broken off, beiug the Lieutenant's bond for two hundred pounds, 
upon which no iuterest whatever appeared to have been paid. 
Other bills and bonds to a larger amount, and signed by better 
names (I mean commercially) than those of the worthy divine 
and gallant soldier, also occurred in the course of their researches, 
besides a hoard of coins of every size and denomination, and scraps 
of broken gold and silver, old ear-rings, hinges of cracked snuff- 
boxes, mountings of spectacles, etc. etc. etc. Still no will made 
its appearance, and Colonel Mannering began full well to hope 
that the settlement which he had obtained from Glossin con- 
tained the ultimate arrangement of the old lady's affairs. But 
his friend Pleydell, who now came into the room, cautioned him 
against entertaining this belief. 

" I am well acquainted with the gentleman," he said, " who 
is conducting the search, and I guess from his manner that he 
knows something more of the matter than any of us." Mean- 
time, while the search proceeds, let us take a brief glance at one 
or two of the company, who seem most interested. 

Of Dinmont, who, with his large hunting-whip under his 
arm, stood poking his great round face over the shoulder of the 
homme d'affaires, it is unnecessary to say anything. That thin- 
looking oldish person, in a most correct and gentleman-like 
suit of mourning, is Mac-Casquil, formerly of Drumquag, who 
was ruined by having a legacy bequeathed to him of two shares 
in the Ayr bank. His hopes on the present occasion are founded 
on a very distant relationship, upon his sitting in the same pew 
with the deceased eveiy Sunday, and upon his playing at 
cribbage with her regularly on the Saturday evenings — taking 
great care never to come off a winner. That other coarse-looking 
man, wearing his own greasy hair tied in a leathern cue more 
greasy still, is a tobacconist, a relation of Mrs. Bertram's mother, 
who, having a good stock in trade when the colonial war broke 
out, trebled the price of his commodity to all the world, Mrs. 
Bertram alone excepted, whose tortoise-shell snuff-box was 
weekly filled with the best rappee at the old prices, because the 
maid brought it to the shop with Mrs. Bertram's respects to her 



270 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

cousin Mr. Quid. That young fellow, who has not had the 
decency to put off his boots and buck-skins, might have stood 
as forward b& most of them in the graces of the old lady, who 
loved to look upon a comely young man ; but it is thought he 
has forfeited the moment of fortune, by sometimes neglecting 
her tea-table when solemnly invited; sometimes appearing 
there, when he had been dining with bHther company ; twice 
treading upon her cat*s tail, and once aflBronting her parrot. 

To Mannering, the most interesting of the group was the 
poor girl, who had been a sort of humble companion of the 
deceased, as a subject upon whom she could at all times expec- 
torate her bad humour. She was for form's sake dragged into 
the room by the deceased's favourite female attendant, where, 
shrinking into a comer as soon as possible, she saw with wonder 
and affright the intrusive researches of the strangers amongst 
those recesses to which from childhood she had looked with 
awful veneration. This girl was regarded with an unfavourable 
eye by all the competitors, honest Dinmont only excepted ; the 
rest conceived they should find in her a formidable competitor, 
whose claims might at least encumber and diminish their chance 
of succession. Yet she waa the only person present who seemed 
really to feel sorrow for the deceased. Mrs. Bertram had been 
her protectress, although from selfish motives, — ^and her capri- 
cious tyranny was forgotten at the moment, while the tears 
followed each other fast down the cheeks of her frightened and 
friendless dependent. " There's ower muckle saut water there, 
Drumquag," said the tobacconist to the ex-proprietor, " to bode 
ither folk muckle gude. Folk seldom greet that gate but they 
ken what it's for." Mr. Mac-Casquil only replied with a nod, 
feeling the propriety of asserting his superior gentry in presence 
of Mr. PleydeU and Colonel Mannering. 

" Very queer if there suld be nae will after a*, friend," said 
Dinmont, who began to grow impatient, to the man of business. 

" A moment's patience, if you please — she was a good and 
prudent woman, Mrs. Margaret Bertram — a good and prudent 
and well-judging woman, and knew how to choose friends and 
depositories ; she may have put her last will and testament, or 
rather her mortis causa settlement, as it relates to heritage, into 
the hands of some safe friend." 

" I'll bet a rump and dozen," said Pleydell whispering to the 
Colonel, "he has got it in his own pocket;" — then addressiiuj 



GUY MANNERING. 271 

the man of law, " Come, sir, we'll cut this short if you please — 
here is a settlement of the estate of Singleside, executed several 

years ago, in favour of Miss Lucy Bertram of Ellangowan," 

The company stared fearfully wild. "You, I presume, Mr. 
Protocol, can inform us if there is a later deed 1" 

"Please to favour me, Mr. Pleydell;" — and so saying, he 
took the deed out of the learned counsel's hand, and glanced 
his eye over the contents. 

" Too cool," said Pleydell, " too cool by half — ^he has another 
deed in his pocket still." 

" Why does he not shew it then, and be d — d to him !" said 
the military gentleman, whose patience began to wax threadbare. 

"Why, how should I know?" answered the barrister — "why 
does a cat not kill a mouse when she takes him? — ^the con- 
sciousness of power and the love of teasing, I suppose. — ^Well, 
Mr. Protocol, what say you to that deed?" 

" Why, Mr. Pleyddl, the deed is a well-drawn deed, properly 
authenticated and tested in forms of the statute." • 

" But recalled or superseded by another of posterior date in 
your possession, eh ?" said the counsellor. 

" Something of the sort, I confess, Mr. Pleydell," rejoined the 
man of business, producing a bundle tied with tape, and sealea 
at each fold and legation with black wax. " That deed, Mr. 
Pleydell, which you produce and found upon, is dated 1st June 
17 — ; but this" — ^breaking the seals and unfolding the document 
slowly — " is dated the 20th — ^no, I see it is the 21st, of April 
of this present year, being ten years posterior." 

"Marry, hang her, brock!" said the counsellor, borrowing 
an exclamation jfrom Sir Toby Belch — "just the month ia which 
EUangowan's distresses became generally public. But let us 
hear what she has done." 

Mr. Protocol accordingly, having required silence, began to 
read the settlement aloud in a slow, steady, business-like tone. 
The group around, in whose eyes hope alternately awakened and 
faded, and who were straining their apprehensions to get at the 
drift of the testator's meaning through the mist of technical 
language in which the conveyance had involved it, might have 
made a study for Hogarth. 

The deed was of an unexpected nature. It set forth with 
conveying and disponing aU and whole the estate and lands of 
Singleside and others, with the lands of Loverless, Liealone, 



272 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

Spinster's Knowe, and heaven knows what beside, " io and in 
favours of" (here the reader softened his voice to a gentle and 
modest piano) " Peter Protocol, clerk to the signet, having the 
fullest confidence in his capacity and integrity, — (these are the 
very words which my worthy deceased friend insisted upon my 
inserting), — But in trust always" (here the reader recovered 
his voice and style, and the visages of several of the hearers, 
which had attained a longitude that Mr. Mortcloke might have 
envied, were perceptibly shortened), " in trust always, and for 
the uses, ends, and purposes hereinafter mentioned." 

In these " uses, ends, and purposes," lay the cream of the 
affair. The first was introduced by a preamble setting forth, 
that the testatrix was lineally descended from the ancient house 
of Ellangowan, her respected great-grandfather, Andrew Bertram, 
first of Singleside, of happy memory, having been second son to 
Allan Bertram, fifteenth Baron of Ellangowan. It proceeded 
to state, that Henry Bertram, son and heir of Godfrey Bertram, 
tiow of Ellangowan, had been stolen fix)m his parents in infancy, 
but that she, the testatrix, was well asswred that he was yet 
A alive in foreign jparts, amd hy the providence of heaven would 
he restored to the possessions of his ancestors — in which case 
the said Peter Protocol was bound and obliged, likeas he bound 
and obliged himself, by acceptance of these presents, to denude 
himself of the said lands of Singleside and others, and of all 
the other effects thereby conveyed (excepting always a proper 
gratification for his own trouble), to and in favour of the said 
Henry Bertram, upon his return to his native country. And 
during the time of his residing in foreign parts, or in case of 
his never again returning to Scotland, Mr. Peter Protocol, the 
trustee, was directed to distribute the rents of the land, and 
> interest of the other fimds (deducting always a proper gratifi- 
j cation for his trouble in the premises), in equal portions, among 
four charitable establishments pointed out in the will. The 
power of management, of letting leases, of raising and lending 
out money, in short, the full authority of a proprietor, was 
vested in this confidential trustee, and, in the event of his death, 
went to certain official persons named in the deed. There were 
only two legacies, — one of a hundred pounds to a favourite 
waiting-maid, another of the like sum to Janet Gibson, (whom 
the deed stated to have been supported by the charity of thf 



GUY MANNERTNG. 273 

testatrix), for the purpose of binding her an apprentice to some 
honest trade. 

A settlement in mortmain is in Scotland termed a mortifi- 
caHon^ and in one great borough (Aberdeen, if I remember 
rightly) there is a municipal officer who takes care of these 
public endowments, and is thence called the Master of Mortifi- 
cations. One would almost presume that the term had its 
origm in the effect which such settlements usually produce upon 
the kinsmen of those by whom they are executed. Heavy at 
least was the mortification which befell the audience, who, in the 
late Mrs. Margaret Bertram's parlour, had listened to this 
unexpected destination of the lands of Singleside. There was 
a profound silence after the deed had been read over. 

Mr. Pleydell was the first to speak. He begged to look at 
the deed, and having satisfied hhnself that it was correctly 
drawn and executed, he returned it without any observation, 
only saying aside to Mannering, " Protocol is not worse than 
other people, I believe ; but this old lady has determined, that 
if he do not turn rogue, it shall not be for want of temptation." 

" I reaUy think," said Mr. Mac-Casquil of Drumquag, who, 
having guljed do^ one half of his ve^tion, detenni^edto giv^ 
vent to the rest — " I really think this is an extraordinary case ! 
I should like now to know fi:om Mr. Protocol, who, being sole 
and unlimited trustee, must have been consulted upon this occasion 
— I should like, I say, to know, how Mrs. Bertram could possibly 
believe in the existence of a boy, that a' the world kens was 
murdered many a year since 1" 

"Really, sir," said Mr. Protocol, "I do not conceive it is 
possible for me to explain her motives more than she has done 
herself. Our excellent deceased friend was a good woman, sir 
—a pious woman— and might have grounds for confidence in the 
boy's safety which are not accessible to us, sir." 

" Hout," said the tobacconist, " I ken very weel what were 
her grounds for confidence. There's Mrs. Rebecca (the maid) 
sitting there, has tell'd me a hundred times in my ain shop, there 
was nae kenning how her leddy wad settle her afiairs, for an 
auld gipsy witch wife at Gilsland had possessed her with a notion, 
that the callant — Harry Bertram ca's she him 1 — would come 
alive again some day after a' — ^yell no deny that, Mrs. Rebecca ? 
—though I dare to say ye forgot to put your mistress in mind 

VOL. IL T 



274 WAVEKLEY NOVELS. 

of what ye promised to say when I gied ye mony a half-^rown — 
But ye*ll no deny what I'm saying now, lafis 1" 

'^ I ken naethmg at a' about it/' answered Bebecca, doggedly, 
and looking straight forward with the firm countenance of one 
not disposed to he compelled to remember more than was agree- 
able to her. 

" Weel said, Rebecca ! yeVe satisfied wi' your ain share, ony 
way," rejoined the tobacconist. 

The buck of the second-head, for a buck of the first-head he 
was not, had hitherto been slapping his boots with his switch- 
whip, and looking like a spoiled child that has lost its supper. 
His murmurs, however, were all vented inwardly, or at most in 
a soliloquy such as this — " I am sorry, by G — d, I ever plagued 
myself about her — I came here, by God, one night to drink tea, 
and I left King, and the Duke's rider, Will Hack. They were 
toasting a round of running horses ; by G — d, I might have got 
leave to wear the jacket as well as other folk, if I had carried 
it on with them — ^and she has not so much as left me that 
hundred !" 

" We'll make the payment of the note quite agreeable," said 
Mr. Protocol, who had no wish to increase at that moment the 
odium attached to his oflSce — " And now, gentlemen, I fancy 
we have no more to wait for here, and — ^I shall put the settle- 
ment of my excellent and worthy friend on record to-morrow, 
that every gentleman may examine the contents, and have free 
access to take an extract; and" — ^he proceeded to lock up the 
repositories of the deceased with more speed than he had opened 
them — "Mrs. Rebecca, ye'll be so kind as to keep all right 
here until we can let the house — ^I had an offer from a tenant 
this morning, if such a thing should be, and if I was to have any 
management." 

Our friend Dinmont, having had his hopes as well as 
another, had hitherto sate sulky enough in the arm-chair formerly 
appropriated to the deceased, and in which she would have been 
not a little scandalized to have seen this colossal specimen of 
the masculine gender lolling at length. His employment had 
been rolling up, into the form of a coiled snake, the long lash of 
his horse-whip, and then by a jerk causing it to unroU itself 
into the middle of the floor. The first words he said when he 
had digested the shock, contained a magnanimous declaration, 
which he probably was not conscious of having uttered aloud — 



GUY MANNERING. 275 

** Wed — ^blude's thicker than water — she's welcome to the 
cheeses and the hams just the same." But when the trustee 
had made the above-mentioned motion for the mourners to de- 
part, and talked of the house being immediately let, honest 
Dinmont got upon his feet, and stunned the company with this 
blunt question, " And what's to come o' this poor laasie then — 
Jenny Gibson 1 Sae mony o' us as thought ouisells sib to the 
family when the gear was parting, we may do something for her 
amang us surely/' 

This proposal seemed to dispose most of the assembly instantly 
to evacuate the premises, although upon Mr. Protocol's motion 
they had lingered as if around the grave of their disappointed 
hopes. Drumquag said, or rather muttered, something of having 
a family of his own, and took precedence, in virtue of his gentle 
blood, to depart as fast as possible. The tobacconist sturdily 
stood forward, and scouted the motion — " A little huzzie like 
that was weel eneugh provided for already ; and Mr. Protocol, 
at ony rate, was the proper person to take direction of her, aa 
he had charge of her legacy ; and after uttering such his opinion 
in a steady and decisive tone of voice he also left the place. 
The buck made a stupid and brutal attempt at a jest upon Mrs. 
Bertram's recommendation that the poor girl should be taught 
some honest trade ; but encountered a scowl from Colonel Man- 
nering's darkening eye (to whom, in his ignorance of the tone of 
good society, he had looked for applause) that made him ache 
to the very back-bone. He shuffled down stairs, therefore, afi 
fast as possible. 

Protocol, who was really a good sort of man, next expressed 
his intention to take a temporary charge of the young lady, 
under protest always, that his doing so should be considered as 
merely eleemosynary; when Dinmont at length got up, and, 
having shaken his huge dreadnought great-coat as a Newfound- 
land dog does his shaggy hide when he comes out of the water, 
ejaculated, " Weel, deil hae me then, if ye hae ony fash wi' her, 
Mr. Protocol — ^if she likes to gang hame wi' me that is. Ye 
see, Ailie and me we're weel to pass, and we would like the 
lassies to hae a wee bit mair lair than oursells, and to be neigh- 
bour-like — that wad we. — ^And ye see Jenny canna miss but to 
ken manners, and the like o' reading books, and sewing seams — 
having lived sae lang wi' a grand lady like Lady Singleside ; or 
if she disua ken onything about it, I'm jealous that our bainis 



276 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

will like her a' the better. And I'll take care o* the bits o* 
claes, and what spending siller she maun hae ; so the hundred 
pound may rin on in your hands, Mr. Protocol, and I'll be add- 
ing something till't, till she'll maybe get a Liddesdale joe that 
wants something to help to buy the hirsel.* — ^What dy*e say to 
that, hinney ? I'll take out a ticket for ye in the fly to Jethart. 
— Od, but ye maun take a powny after that o'er the Limestane- 
rig — deil a wheeled carriage ever gaed into Liddesdale. t — ^And 
I'll be veiy glad if Mrs. Rebecca comes wi' you, hinney, and 
stays a month or twa while ye're stranger like." 

While Mrs. Eebecca was courtseying, and endeavouring to 
make the poor orphan girl courtsey instead of crying, and while 
Dandie, in his rough way, was encouraging them both, old 
Pleydell had recourse to Ms snuff-box. " It's meat and drink 
to me, now, Colonel," he said as he recovered himself, **|to see 

a clown like this 1 must gratify him in his own way-+-must 

assist him to ruin himself ; — ^there's no help for it. Herb, you 
Liddesdale Dandie — Charlies-hope — ^what do they call you!?" 

The farmer turned, infinitely gratified even by this sort of 
notice ; for in his heart, next to his own landlord, he honoured 
a lawyer in high practice. 

" So you will not be advised against trying that question 
about your marches V* 

" No — ^no, sir — ^naebody likes to loose their right, and to be 
laughed at down the haill water. But since your honour's no 
agreeable, and is maybe a jfriend to the other side like, we maun 
try some other advocate." 

" There — I told you so. Colonel Mannering ! — ^Well, sir, if 
you must needs be a fool, the business is to give you the luxury 
of a lawsuit at the least possible expense, and to bring you off 
conqueror if possible. Let Mr. Protocol send me your papers, 
and I will advise him how to conduct your cause. I don't see, 
after aU, why you should not have your lawsuits too, and your 
feuds in the Court of Session, as well as your forefathers had 
their manslaughters and fire-raisings." 

f The roads of Liddesdale, in Dandie Dinmont's days, conld not be said 
to exist, and the district was only accessible through a succession of 
tremendous morasses. About thirty years ago, the author himself was the 
first person who ever drove a little open carriage into these wilds ; the ex- 
cellent roads by which they are now traversed being then in some progress. 
The people stared with no small wonder at a sight which many of them 
had never witnessed in their lives before. * The stock of sheep. 



GUY MAITNEEING. 277 

" Very natural, to be sure, sir. We wad just take the auld 
gate as readily, if it wema for the law. And as the law binds 
OS, the law should loose us. Besides, a man's aye the better 
thought o' in our country for having been afore the Feifteen." 

" Excellently argued, my friend ! Away with you, and send 
your papers to me. — Come, Colonel, we have no more to do 
here." 

"Grod, we'll ding Jock o' Dawston Cleugh now, after aM" 
said Dinmont, slapping his thigh in great exultation. 



CHAPTER THIRTY-NINTH. 

^I am going to the parliament ; 

Ton understand this bag. If.you have any business 
Depending there, be short and let me hear it, 
And pay your fees. 

Little Fbenoh Lawteb. 

*' Shall you be able to carry this honest felloVs cause for 
him V* said Mannering. 

" Why, I don't know ; the battle is not to the strong, but he 
shall come off triumphant over Jock of Dawston if we can make 
it out. I owe him something. It is the pest of our profession, 
that we seldom see the best side of human nature. People 
come to us with every selfish feeling, newly pointed and grinded ; 
they turn down the veiy caulkers of their animosities and pre- 
judices, as smiths do with horses' shoes in a white frost. Many 
a man has come to my garret yonder, that I have at first longed 
to pitch out at the window, and yet, at length, have discovered 
that he was only doing as I might have done in his case, being 
very angry, and, of course, very unreasonable. I have now 
satisfied myself, that if our profession sees more of human folly 
and human roguery than others, it is because we witness them 
acting in that channel in which they can most freely vent them- 
selves. In civilized society, law is the chimney through which 
aU that smoke discharges itself that used to circulate through 
the whole house, and put every one's eyes out — ^no wonder, 
therefore, that the vent itself should sometimes get a little sooty. 
But we will take care our Liddesdale man's cause is well cnn- 



278 WAYBKLBY NOVELS, 

ducted and well argued, so all unnecessary expense will be saved 
— ^he shall have his pine-apple at wholesale price." 

''Will you do me the pleasure," said Mannering, as they 
parted, '' to dine with me at my lodgings ? my landlord says he 
has a bit of red-deer venison, and some excellent wine." 

"Venison — ehl" answered the counsellor alertly, but pre- 
sently added — '' but no ! it's impossible — and I can't ask you 
home neither. Monday's a sacred day — so's Tuesday — and 
Wednesday, we are to be heard in the great teind case in presence 
— But stay — ^it's frosty weather, and if you don't leave town, and 
that venison would keep till Thursday " 

" You win dine with me that day ?" 

" Under certification." 

" Well, then, I will indulge a thought I had of spending a 
week here ; and if the venison will not keep, why we will see 
what else our landlord can do for us." 

" Oh, the venison will keep," said Pleydell " And now, good- 
by ; — ^look at these two or three notes, and deliver them if you 
like the addresses ; I wrote them for you this morning. Fare- 
well; my clerk has been waiting this hour to begin a d — d 
information." — ^And away walked Mr. Pleydell with great activity, 
diving through closes and ascending covered stairs, in order to 
attain the High Street by an access, which, compared to the 
oonmion route, was what the Straits of Magellan are to the more 
op^i but circuitous passage round Cape Horn. 

On looking at the notes of introduction which Pleydell had 
thrust into Ids hand, Mannering was gratified with seeing that 
they were addressed to some of the first literary characters of 
Scotland—" To David Hume, Esq."—" To John Home, Esq." 
" To Dr. Ferguson."—" To Dr. Black."—" To Lord Kaimes." 
« To Mr. Hutton."— " To John Clerk, Esq. of Eldin."— " To 
Adam Smith, Esq."— "To Dr. Eobertson." 

"Upon my word, my legal friend has a good selection 6f 
acquaintances — ^these are names pretty widely blown indeed. 
An East Indian must rub up his - faculties a little, and put his 
mind in order, before he enters this sort of society." 

Mannering gladly availed himself of these introductions ; and 
we regret deeply it is not in our power to give the reader an 
account of the pleasure and information which he received, 
in admission to a circle never closed against strangers of sense 
and information, and which has perhaps at no period been 



J 



GUY MANNEBINO. 279 

equalled, oonsiderisg the depth and variety of talent which 
it embraced and concentrated. 

Upon the Thursday appointed, Mr. Pleydell made his appear- 
ance at the inn where Colonel Mannering lodged. The venison 
proved in high order, the claret excellent; and the learned 
couivsel, a professed amateur in the affairs of the table, did 
distinguished honour to both. I am uncertain, however, if even 
the good cheer gave him more satisfaction than the presence of 
Dominie Sampson, from whom, in his own juridical style of wit, 
he contrived to extract great amusement, both for himself and 
one or two friends whom the Colonel regaled on the same 
occasion. The grave and laconic simplicity of Sampson's answers 
to the insidious questions of the barrister, placed the honhonvmie 
of his character in a more luminous point of view than Manner- 
ing had yet seen it. Upon the same occasion he drew forth a 
strange quantity of miscellaneous and abstruse, though, generally 
speaking, useless learning. The lawyer afterwards compared 
his mind to the magazine of a pawnbroker, stowed with goods 
of eveiy description, but so cumbrously piled together, and in 
such total disorganisation, that the owner can never lay his 
hands upon any one article at the moment he has occasion for it. 

As for the advocate himself, he afforded at least as much 
exercise to Sampson as he extracted amusement from him . 
When the man of law began to get into his altitudes, and his 
wit, naturally shrewd and dry, became more lively and poignant, 
the Dominie looked upon him with that sort of surprise wila 
which we can conceive a tame bear might regard his friture 
associate, the monkey, on their being first introduced to each 
other. It was Mr. Pleydell's delight to state in grave and serious 
argument some position which he knew the Dominie would be 
inclined to dispute. He then beheld with exquisite pleasure the 
internal labour with which the honest man arranged his ideas 
for reply, and tasked his inert and sluggish powers to bring up 
all the heavy artillery of his learning for demolishing the 
schismatic or heretical opinion which had been stated — ^when, 
behold ! before the ordnance could be discharged, the foe had 
quitted the post, and appeared in a new position of annoyance 
on the Dominie's flank or rear. Often did he exclaim " Pro- 
digious !" when, marching up to the enemy in frdl confidence of 
victory, he found the field evacuated ; and it may be supposed 
that it cost him no little labour to attempt a new formation. 



280 WAVEKLEY NOVELS. 

" He was like a native Indian army," the Colonel said, " foimld- 
able by numerical strength and size of ordnance, but liable to 
be thrown into irreparable confusion by a movement to take 
them in flank." — On the whole, however, the Dominie, though 
somewhat fatigued with these mental exertions, made at unusual 
speed and upon the pressure of the moment, reckoned this one 
of the white days of his life, and always mentioned Mr. Pleydell 
aa a very erudite and fa-ce-ti-ous person. 

By degrees the rest of the party dropped off, and left these 
three gentlemen together. Their conversation turned to Mrs. 
Bertram's settlements. — "Now what could drive it into the 
noddle of that old harridan," said Pleydell, " to disinherit poor 
Lucy Bertram, under pretence of settling her property on a boy 
who has been so long dead and gone ? — I ask your pardon, Mr. 
Sampson — I forgot what an affecting case this was for you ; — I 
remember taking your examination upon it — and I never had so 
much trouble to make any one speak three words consecutively. 
— ^You may talk of your Pythagoreans, or your silent Brahmins, 
Colonel — go to, I tdl you this learned gentleman beats them all 
in taciturnity — but the words of the wise are precious, and not 
to be thrown away lightly." 

" Of a surety," said tiie Dominie, taking his blue-checqued 
handkerchief from his eyes, "that was a bitter day with me 
indeed ; ay, and a day of grief hard to be borne — ^but He giveth 
strength who layeth on the load." 

Colonel Mannering took this opportimity to request Mr. Pley- 
dell to inform him of the particulars attending the loss of the 
boy ; and the counsellor, who was fond of talking upon subjects 
of criminal jurisprudence, especially when connected with his 
own experience, went through the circumstances at fuU length. 
" And what is your opinion upon the result of the whole?" 

" Oh, that Kennedy was murdered : it's an old case which 
has occurred on that coast before now — ^the case of Smuggler 
versus Exciseman." 

" What, then, is your conjecture concerning the fate of the 
chHdl" 

" Oh, murdered too, doubtless," answered Pleydell. " He was 
old enough to tell what he had seen, and these ruthless scoun- 
drels would not scruple committing a second Bethlehem massacre, 
if they thought their interest required it." 

The Dominie (rroaned deeply, and ejaculated, "Enormous t" 



GUY MANNERING. 281 

** Yet there was mention of gipsies in the business too, coun- 
sellor," said Mannering, "and from what that vulgar-looking 
-fellow said after the funeral" 

" Mrs. Margaret Bertram's idea that the child was alive was 
founded upon the report of a gipsy," said Pleydell, catching at 
the half-spoken hint — " I envy you the concatenation, ColoneL 
— ^it is a shame to me not to have drawn the same conclusion. 
We'll follow this business up instantly — Here, hark ye, waiter, 
— go down to Luckie Wood's in the CJowgate; ye'U find my 
clerk Driver ; he'll be set down to High-Jinks by this time (for 
we and our retainers. Colonel, are exceedingly regular in our 
irregularities) ; tell him to come here instantly, and I will pay 
his forfeits." 

" He won't appear in character will he ?" said Mannering. 

" Ah ! no more of that, Hal an thou lovest me," said Pley- 
delL " But we must have some news from the land of Egypt, 
if possible. 0, if I had but hold of the slightest thread of this 
complicated skein, you should see how I would unravel it ! I 
would work the truth out of your Bohemian, as the French call 
them, better than a Momtoi/re, or a PlomUe de Tovmelle : I know 
how to manage a refractory witness." 

While Mr. Pleydell was thus vaunting his knowledge of his 
profession, the waiter re-entered with Mr. Driver, his mouth 
still greasy with mutton pies, and the froth of the last draught 
of twopenny yet unsubsided on his upper lip, with such speed 
had he obeyed the commands of his principal. " Driver, you must 
go instantly and find out the woman who was old Mrs. Margaret 
Bertram's maid. Inquire for her everywhere ; but if you find 
it necessary to have recourse to Protocol, Quid the tobacconist, 
or any other of these folks, you wiU take care not to appear 
yourself, but send some woman of your acquaintance — I dare say 
you know enough that may be so condescending as to oblige you. 
When you have found her out, engage her to come to my cham- 
bers to-morrow at eight o'clock precisely." 

"What shall I say to make her forthcoming?" asked the 
aide-de-camp. 

" Anything you choose," replied the lawyer. " Is it my busi- 
ness to make lies for you, do you think 1 But let her be m prc&- 
Hentia by eight o'clock, as I have said before." The clerk grinned, 
made his reverence and exit. 

" That's a useful fellow/' said the counsellor ; — " I don't believe 



282 WAVERLET NOVELS. 

his match ever carried a process. He'll write to my dictating 
three nights in the week without sleep, or, what's the same 
thing, he writes as well and correctly when he's asleep as when 
he's awake. Then he's such a steady fellow — some of them are 
always changing their alehouses, so that they have twenty cadies 
sweating after them, like the bare-headed captams traversing 
the taverns of Eajst-Cheap in search of Sir John Falstaff. But 
this is a complete fixture ; — ^he has his winter seat by the fire, 
and his smnmer seat by the window, in Luckie Wood's, betwixt 
which seats are his only migrations — ^there he's to be found at 
aU times when he's off duty. It is my opinion he never puts off his 
clothes or goes to sleep ; — sheer ale supports him under every 
thing ; it is meat, drink, and clothing, bed, board, and washing." 

" ^d is he always fit for duty upon a sudden turn out ? I 
should distrust it, considering his quarters." 

"Oh, drink never disturbs him. Colonel; he can write for 
hours after he cannot speak. I remember being called suddenly 
to draw an appeal case. I had been dining, and it was Saturday 
night, and I had ill will to begin to it ; however, they got me 
down to Clerihugh's, and there we sat birling till I bad a fair 
tappit hen'''' under my belt, and then they persuaded me to draw 
the paper. Then we had to seek Driver, and it was all that two 
men could do to bear him in ; for, when found, he was, as it 
happened, both motionless and speechless. But no sooner was 
his pen put between his fingers, his paper stretched before him, 
and he heard my voice, than he began to write like a scrivener 
— and, excepting that we were obliged to have somebody to dip 
his pen in the ink, for he could not see the standish, I never saw 
a thing scrolled more handsomely." 

" But how did your joint production look the next morning ]" 
said the Colonel. 

" Wheugh ! capital — ^not three words required to be altered ;t 
it was sent off by that day's post But you'll come and break- 
fast with me to-morrow, and hear this soman's examination f 

" Why, your hour is rather early." 

" Can't make it later. If I were not on the boards of the 
Outer House precisely as the nine-hours bell rings, there would 
be a report that I had got an apoplexy, and I should feel the 
effects of it all the rest of the session." 

* Note H. Tappit Hen. 
T Note I. Convivial Habits of the Scottish Bat 



GUY MANNERING. 283 

" Wfsll, 1 will make an exertion to wait upon you." 

Here tiie company broke up for the evening. 

In the morning, Colonel Mannering appeared at the coun- 
sellor's chambers, although cursing the raw air of a Scottish 
morning in December. Mr. Pleydell had got Mrs. Eebecca 
installed on one side of his fire, accommodated her with a cup 
of chocolate, and was already deeply engaged in conversation 
with her. "0 no, I assure you, Mrs. Rebecca, there is no 
intention to challenge your mistress's will ; and I give you my 
word of honour that your legacy is quite safe. You have 
deserved it by your conduct to your mistress, and I wish it had 
been twice as much." 

" Why, to be sure, sir, it's no right to mention what is said 
before ane — ^ye heard how that dirty body Quid cast up to me 
the bits o' compliments he gied me, and tdl'd ower again ony 
loose cracks I might hae had wi' him • — ^now if ane was talking 
loosely to your honour, there's nae saying what might come o't." 

" I assure you, my good Rebecca, my character and your own 
age and appearance are your security, if you should talk as 
loosely as an amatory poet." 

" Aweel, if your honour thinks I am safe — ^the story is just 
this. — ^Ye see, about a year ago, or no just sae lang, my leddy 
was advised to go to Gilsland for a while, for her spirits were 
distressing her sair. Ellangowan's troubles began to be spoken 
o' publicly, and sair vexed she was ; for she was proud o' her 
family. For Ellangowan himsell and her, they sometimes 
'greed, and sometimes no ; but at last they didna 'gree at a' 
for twa or three year — ^for he was aye wanting to borrow siller, 
and that was what she couldna bide at no hand, and she was 
aye wanting it paid back again, and that the Laird he liked as 
little. So, at last, they were clean aff thegither. And then 
some of the company at Gilsland teUs her that the estate was 
to be sell'd ; and ye wad hae thought she had taen an ill will 
at Miss Lucy Bertram frae that moment, for mony a time she 
cried to me, ' Becky, Becky, if that useless peenging thing 
o' a lassie there at Ellangowan, that canna keep her ne'er-do- 
weel father within bounds — ^if she had been but a lad-baim, 
they couldna hae sell'd the auld inheritance for that fool-body's 
debts ;' — ^and she would rin on that way till I was just wearied 
and sick to hear her ban the puir lassie, as if she wadna hae 
been a lad-hairn, and keepit the land, if it had been in her 



284 WAVEKLEY NOVELS. 

will to change her sect. And ae day at the spaw-well, below the 
craig at Gilsland, she was seeing a very bonny family o' bairns 
— they belanged to ane Mac-Crosky — ^and she broke out — * la 
not it an oddlike thing that ilka waff carle* in the country has 
a son and heir, and that the house of Ellangowan is without 
male succession]' There was a gipsy wife stood ahint and 
heard her — a muckle stour fearsome-looking wife she was as 
ever I set een on. * Wha is it/ says she, * that dare say the 
house of Ellangowan will perish without male succession?' 
My mistress just turned on her; she was a high-spirited 
woman, and aye ready wi' an answer to a' body. ' It's me that 
says it,' says she, ' that may say it with a sad heart.' Wi' that 
the gipsy wife gripped till her hand : ' I ken you weel eneugh,' 
says she, ' though you kenna me — But as sure as that sun's in 
heaven, and as sure as that water's rinning to the sea, and as 
sure as there's an ee that sees, and an ear that hears us baith, 
— Harry Bertram, that was thought to perish at Warroch 
Point, never did die there. He wsus to have a weary weird o't 
till- his ane-and-twentieth year, that was aye said o' him — ^but 
if ye live and I live, ye'll hear mair o' him this winter before 
the snaw lies twa days on the Dun of Singleside. I want nane 
o' your siller,' she said, ' to make ye think I am blearing your 
ee. Fare ye weel till after Martinmas.' And there she left us 
standing." 

" Was she a very tall woman 1" interrupted Mannering. 

" Had she black hair, black eyes, and a cut above the brow V 
added the lawyer. 

^^ She was the tallest woman I ever saw, and her hair was as 
black as midnight, unless where it was grey, and she had a scar 
abune the brow, that ye might hae laid the lith of your &iger 
in. Naebody that's seen her will ever forget her ; and I am 
morally sure that it was on the ground o' what that gipsy- 
woman said that my mistress made her will, having taen a dis- 
like at the young leddy o' Ellangowan ; and she liked her far waur 
after she was obliged to send her £20, — ^for she said Miss Ber- 
tram, no content wi' letting the Ellangowan property pass into 
strange hands, owing to her being a lass and no a lad, was com- 
ing, by her poverty, to be a burden and a disgrace to Singleside 
too. — But I hope my mistress's is a good will for a' that, for it 
would be hard on me to lose the wee bit legacy — I served for 
little fee and bountith, weel I wot." 

* Kverv iusignificaDt churl 



GUY MAKNERING. 285 

The counsellor relieved her fears on this head, then inquired 
after Jenny Gibson, and understood she had accepted Mr. Din- 
mont's offer ; and " I have done sae mysell too, since he was sae 
discreet as to ask me," said Mrs. Rebecca ; " they are very decent 
folk the Dinmonts, though my lady didna dow to hear muckle 
about the friends on that side the house. But she liked the 
Charlies-hope hams, and the cheeses, and the muirfowl, that they 
were aye sending, and the lamb's-wool hose and mittens — she 
liked them weel eneuch." 

Mr. Pleydell now dismissed Mrs. Rebecca. When she was 
gone, " I think I know the gipsy woman," said the lawyer. 

" I was just going to say the same," replied Mannering. 

" And her name," said Pleydell 

" Is Meg Merrilies," answered the Colonel 

" Are you avised of that?" said the counsellor, looking at his 
military Mend with a comic expression of surprise. 

Manneriag answered, "that he had known such a woman 
when he was at Ellangowan upwards of twenty years before f 
and then made his learned Mend acquainted with aU the remark- 
able particulars of his first visit there. 

Mr. Pleydell listened with great attention, and then replied, 
'' I congratulated myself upon having made the acquaintance oi 
a profound theologian in your chaplain ; but I really did not ex- 
pect to find a pupil of Albumazar or Messahala in his patron. I 
have a notion, however, this gipsy could tell us some more of the 
matter than she derives from astrology or secondnsight — I had 
her through hands once, and could then make little of her ; but 
I must write to Mac-Morlan to stir heaven and earth to find her 

out. I will gladly come to shire myself to assist at her 

examination. I am still in the commission of the peace there, 
though I have ceased to be sheriff. I never had anything more 
at heart in my life than tracing that murder, and the fate of the 
child. I must write to the sheriff of Roxburghshire too, and to 
an active justice of peace in Cumberland." 

" I hope when you come to the country you will make Wood- 
bourne your head-quarters 1" 

" Certainly ; I was afraid you were going to forbid me — But 
we must go to breakfast now, or I shall be too late." 

On the following day the new Mends parted, and the Colonel 
rejoined Ms family without any adventure worthy of beinc; de- 
tailed in these chapters. 



266 VAYSfiLET NOVELS. 



CHAPTER FORTIETH. 

Can no regt find me, no private place secure me, 
Bat still my miseries like bloodhounds haunt me 1 
Unfortunate young man, which way now guides thee, 
Guides thee from death! The country's laid around for thee. 

Women Pleased. 

Our narrative now recalls us for a moment to the period when 
young Hazlewood received his wound. That accident had no 
sooner happened, than the consequences to Miss Mannering and 
to himself rushed upon Brown's mini From the manner in 
which the muzzle of the piece was pointed when it went off, he 
had no great fear that the consequences would be fatal. But an 
arrest in a strange country, and while he was unprovided with 
any means of establishing his rank and charax;ter, was at least 
to be avoided. He therefore resolved to escape for the present 
to the neighbouring coast of England, and to remain concealed 
there, if possible, until he should receive letters from, his regi- 
mental Mends, and remittances from his agent; and then to 
resume his own character, and offer to young Hazlewood and his 
friends any explanation or satisfaction they might desire. With 
this purpose he walked stoutly forward, after leaving the spot 
where the accident had happened, and reached without adventure 
the village which we have called Portanfeny (but which the 
reader will in vain seek for under that name in the county map). 
A large open boat was just about to leave the quay, bound for 
the little seaport of Allonby, in Cumberland. In this vessel 
Brown embarked, and resolved to make that place his temporary 
abode, until he should receive letters and money from England. 

In the course of their short voyage he entered into some con- 
versation with the steersman, who was also owner of the boat, 
— a jolly old man, who had occasionally been engaged in the 
smuggling trade, like most fishers on the coast. After talking 
about objects of less interest. Brown endeavoured to turn the 
discourse toward the Mannering family. The sailor had heard 
of the attack upon the house at Woodboume, but disapproved 
of the smugglers' proceedings. 

" Hands off is fair play. Zounds ! they'll bring the whole 
oomitry down upon them. Na, na ! when I was in that way, I 



GUY MAJOERING. 287 

played at giff-gaff with the officers : here a cargo taen — ^vera 
weel, that was their luck ; — ^there another carried clean through, 
that was mine. Na, na ! hawks shouldna pike out hawks' een.'' 

" And this Colonel Mannering," said Brown. 

" Troth, he's nae wise man neither, to interfere. No that I 
blame him for saving the gangers' lives — that was veiy right ; 
but it wasna like a gentleman to be fighting about the poor 
folk's pocks o' tea and brandy kegs ; however, he's a grand man 
and an officer man, and they do what they like wi' the like o' 
us." 

"And his daughter," said Brown with a throbbing heart, 
''is going to be married into a great family too, as I have 
heard ?" 

"What, into the Hazlewood's?" said the pilot. "Na, na, 
that's but idle clashes — every Sabbath-day, as regularly as it 
came roimd, did the young man ride hame wi' the daughter of 
the late Ellangowan ; — and my daughter Peggy's in the service 
up at Woodboume, and she says she's sure young Hazlewood 
thinks nae mair of Miss Mannering than you do." 

Bitterly censuring his own precipitate adoption of a contrary 
belief. Brown yet heard with delight that the suspicions of Julia's 
fidelity, upon which he had so rashly acted, were probably void 
of foimdation. How must he in the meantime be sufiering in 
her opinion 1 or what could she suppose of conduct, which must 
have made him appear to her regardless alike of her peace of 
mind, and of the interests of their afiection ? The old man's 
connection with the family at Woodboume seemed to offer a safe 
mode of communication, of which he determined to avail himself. 

" Your daughter is a maid-servant at Woodboume 1 — I knew 
Miss Mannering in India, and though I am at present in an in- 
ferior rank of life, I have great reason to hope she would interest 
herself in my favour. I had a quarrel unfortunately with her 
father, who was my commanding-officer, and I am sure the 
young lady would endeavour to reconcile him to me. Perhaps 
your daughter could deliver a letter to her upon the subject, 
without making mischief between her father and her 1" 

The old man, a firiend to smuggling of every kind, readily 
answered for the letter's being faithfully and secretly delivered ; 
and, accordingly, as soon as they arrived at Allonby, Brown 
wrote to Miss Mannering, stating the utmost contrition for what 
had happened through his rashness, and conjuring her to let 



U 



288 WAVERLET NOVELS. 

Uim have an opportunity of pleading his own cause, and obtsun- 
ing forgiveness for his indiscretion. He did not judge it safe 
to go into any detail concerning the circumstances by which he 
had been misled, and upon the whole endeavoured to express 
himself with such ambiguity, that if the letter should fall into 
wrong hands, it would be difficult either to understand its real 
purport, or to trace the writer. This letter the old man under- 
took faithfully to deliver to his daughter at Woodboume ; and, 
as his trade would speedily again bring him or his boat to 
Allonby, he promised farther to take charge of any answer with 
which the young lady might entrust Mm, 

And now our persecuted traveller landed at Allonby, and 
sought for such accommodations as might at once suit his 
temporary poverty, and his desire of remaining as much unob- 
serv^ as Jossibla With this view he assumed the name and 
profession of his Mend Dudley, having command enough of the 
pencil to verify his pretended character to his host of Allonby. 
His baggage he pretended to expect from Wigton ; and keeping 
himself as much within doors as possible, awaited the return of 
the letters which he had sent to his agent, to Delaserre, and to 
his Lieutenant-Colonel From the first he requested a supply 
of money; he coigured Delaserre, if possible, to join him in 
Scotland; and from the Lieutenant-Colonel he reqim'ed such 
testimony of his rank and conduct in the regiment, as should 
place his character as a gentleman and officer beyond the power 
of question. The inconvenience of being run short in his 
finances struck him so strongly, that he wrote to Dinmont on 
that subject, requesting a small temporary loan, having no doubt 
that, being within sixty or seventy miles of his residence, he 
should receive a speedy as well as favourable answer to his 
request of pecuniary accommodation, which was owing, as he 
stated, to his having been robbed after their parting. And 
then, with impatience enough, though without any serious 
apprehension, he waited the answers of these various letters. 

It must be observed, in excuse of his correspondents, that 
the post was then much more tardy than since Mr. Palmer's 
ingenious invention has taken place ; and with respect to honest 
Dinmont in particular, as he rarely received above one letter 
a quarter (unless during the time of his being engaged in a 
law-suit, when he regularly sent to the post-town), his corre- 
spondence usually remained for a month or two sticking- in the 



GUY MANNERING. 289 

postmaster's window among pamphlets, gingerbread, rolls, or 
ballads, according to the trade which the said postmaster 
exercised. Besides, there was then a custom, not yet wholly 
obsolete, of causing a letter, from one town to another, perhaps 
within the distance of thirty miles, perform a circuit of two 
hundred miles before delivery ; which had the combined advan- 
tage of airing the epistle thoroughly, of adding some pence to 
the revenue of the post-ofl5ce, and of exercising the patience of 
the correspondents. Owing to these circumstances. Brown 
remained several days in Allonby without any answers what- 
ever; and his stock of money, though husbanded with the 
utmost economy, began to wear very low, when he received, by 
the hands of a young fisherman, the following letter : — 

" You have acted with the most cruel indiscretion ; you have 
shown how little I can trust to your declarations that my peace 
and happiness are dear to you ; and your rashness has nearly 
occasioned the death of a young man of the highest worth and 
honour. Must I say more? — ^must I add, that I have been 
myself very ill in consequence of your violence and its effects 'i 
Aud, alas ! need I say still farther, that I have thought anxi- 
ously upon .them as they are likely to affect you, although you 
have given me such slight cause to do so? The 0. is gone 
from home for several days ; Mr. H. is almost quite recovered ; 
and I have reason to think that the blame is laid in a quarter 
different from that where it is deserved. Yet do not think of 
venturing here. Our fate has been crossed by accidents of a 
nature too violent and terrible to permit me to think of renew- 
ing a correspondence which has so often threatened the most 
dreadful catastrophe. Farewell, therefore, and believe that no 
one can wish your happiness more sincerely than 

" J. M." 

This letter contained that species of advice which is frequently 
given for the precise purpose that it may lead to a directly 
opposite conduct from that which it recommends. At least so 
thought Brown, who immediately asked the yoimg fisherman if 
he came from Portanferry. 

" Ay," said the lad ; " I am auld Willie Johnstone's son, and 
I got that letter frae my sister Peggy, that's laundry-maid at 
Woodboume." 

" My good friend, when do you sail l" 

VOL, IL 



290 WAVEBLEY NOVELS. 

" With the tide this evening." 

"I'll return with you; — ^but as I do not desire to go to 
Portanferry, I wish you could put me on shore somewhere on 
the coast." 

" We can easily do that," said the lad 

Although the price of provisions, etc., waa then very moderate, 
the discharging his lodgings, and the expense of his living, 
together with that of a change of dress, which safety, as well 
as a proper regard to his external appearance, rendered neces- 
sary, brought Brown's purse to a very low ebb. He left 
directions at the post-ofl5ce that his letters should be forwarded 
to Kippletringan, whither he resolved to proceed, and reclaim 
the treasure which he had deposited in the hands of Mrs. Mao- 
Candlish. He also felt it would be his duty to assume his 
proper character as soon as he should receive the necessary 
evidence for supporting it, and, as an officer in the king's service, 
give and receive every explanation which might be necessary 
with young Hazlewood. "If he is not very wrong-headed 
indeed," he thought, " he must allow the manner in which I 
acted to have been the necessary consequence of his own over- 
bearing conduct." 

And now we must suppose him once more embarked on the 
Solway Firth. The wind was adverse, attended by some rain, 
and they struggled against it without much assistance firom the 
tide. The boat was heavily laden with goods (part of which 
were probably contraband), and laboured deep in the sea. 
Brown, who had been bred a sailor, and was indeed skilled In 
most athletic exercises, gave his powerful and effectual assist- 
ance in rowing, or occasionally in steering the boat, and his 
advice in the management, which became the more delicate as 
the wind increased, and, being opposed to the very rapid tides 
of that coast, made the voyage perilous. At length, after 
spending the whole night upon the firth, they were at momiag 
within sight of a beautiful bay upon the Scottish coast. The 
weather was now more nuld. The snow, which had been for 
Bome time waning, had given way entirely under the fresh gale 
of the preceding night. The more distant hiUs, indeed, retained 
their snowy mantle, but all the open country was cleared, imless 
where a few white patches indicated that it had been drifted to 
an uncommon depth. Even imder its wintry appearance, the 
shore was highly interesting. The line of sea-coast, with all its 



GtUY MANNERING. 291 

varied curves, indentures, and embayments, swept away from 
the sight on either hand, in that varied, intricate, yet graceful 
and easy line, which the eye loves so well to pursue. And it 
was no less relieved and varied in elevation than in outline, by 
the different forms of the shore ; the beach in some places being 
edged by steep rocks, and in others rising smoothly firom the 
sands in easy and swelling slopes. — Buildings of different kinds 
caught and reflected the wintry sunbeams of a December morn- 
ing, and the woods, though now leafless, gave relief and variety 
to the landscape. Brown felt that lively and awakening interest 
which taste and sensibility always derive from the beauties of 
nature, when opening suddenly to the eye, after the dulness 
and gloom of a night voyage. Perhaps — ^for who can presimie 
to analyze that inexplicable feeling which binds the person ^ 
bom in a mountainous country to his native hills? — perhaps 
some early associations, retaining their effect long after the 
clause was forgotten, mingled in the feelings of pleasure vrith 
which he regarded the scene before him. 

" And what," said Brown to the boatman, " is the name of 
that fine cape, that stretches into the sea with its ^sloping banks 
and hillocks of wood, and forms the right side of the bay?" 

" Warroch Point," answered the lad 

"And that old castle, my friend, with the modem house 
situated just beneath it ? It seems at this distance a very large 
building." 

" That's the Auld Place, sir ; and that's the New Place below 
it. We'll land you there, if you like." 

" I should like it of all things. I must visit that ruin before 
I continue my journey." 

" Ay, it's a queer auld bit," said the fisherman ; " and that 
highest tower is a gude land-mark as far as Ramsey in Man, 
and the Point of Ayr ; — there was muckle fighting about the 
place langsyne." 

Brown would have inquired into farther particulars, but a 
fisherman is seldom an antiquary. His boatman's local know- 
ledge was simmied up in the information already given, " that 
it was a grand land-mark, and that there had been muckle 
fighting about the bit langsyne." 

" I shall learn more of it," said Brown to himself, " when I 
get ashore." 

The boat continued its course close under the point upor 



292 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

which the castle was situated, which frowned from the summit 
of its rocky site upon the still agitated waves of the bay beneath. 
" I believe," said the steersman, " ye'll get ashore here as dry 
as ony gate. There's a place where their berlins and galleys, 
as they ca'd them, used to lie in langsyne, but it's no used 
now, because it's ill carrying gudes up the narrow stairs, or 
ower the rocks. Whiles of a moonlight night I have landed 
articles there, though." 

While he thus spoke, they pulled round a point of rock, and 
found a very small harbour, partly formed by nature, partly by 
the indefatigable labour of the ancient inhabitants of the castle, 
who, as the fisherman observed, had found it essential for the 
protection of their boats and small craft, though it could not 
receive vessels of any burden. The two points of rock which 
formed the access approached each other so nearly, that only 
one boat could enter at a time. On each side were still remain- 
ing two immense iron rings, deeply morticed into the solid rock. 
Through these, according to tradition, there was nightly drawn 
a huge chain, secured by an immense padlock, for the protection 
of the haven, and the armada which it contained. A ledge of 
rock had, by the assistance of the chisel and pickaxe, been 
formed into a sort of quay. The rock was of extremely hard 
consistence, and the task so diflScult, that, according to the 
fisherman, a labourer who wrought at the work might in the 
evening have carried home in his bonnet all the shivers which 
he had struck from the mass in the course of the day. This 
little quay communicated with a rude staircase, already repeat- 
edly mentioned, which descended from the old castle. There 
was also a communication between the beach and the quay, by 
scrambling over the rocks. 

"Ye had better land here," said the lad, "for the surfs 
running high at the Shellicoat-stane, and there will no be a 
dry thread amang us or we get the cargo out. — Na ! na !" (in 
answer to an offer of money), "ye have wrought for your passage, 
and wrought far better than ony o' us. Gude-day to ye : I 
wuss ye weel." 

So saying, he pushed off in order to land his cargo on the 
opposite side of the bay ; and Brown, with a small bundle in 
his hand, containing the trifling stock of necessaries which he 
had been obliged to purchase at Allonby, was left on the rocks 
beneath the ruinu 



GUY MANNEBINO. 293 

And thus, uscon&cious as the most absolute stranger, and in 
circumstances which, if not destitute, were for the present highly 
embarrassing ; without the countenance of a friend within the 
circle of several hundred miles ; accused of a heavy crime, and, 
what was as bad as all the rest, being nearly penniless, did the 
harassed wanderer, for the first time after the interval of so 
many years, approach the remains of the castle where hifi 
ancestors had exercised aU but regal dominion. 



CHAPTER FORTY-FIRST. 

Yes, ye moss-green walls, 



Ye towers defenceless, I revisit ye 
Shame-stricken ! Where are all your trophies now f 
Your thronged courts, the revelry, the tumult, 
That spoke the grandeur of my house, the homage 
Of neighbounng Barons Y 

Mtstebioub Mother. 

Enteeing the castle of Ellangowan by a postern door-way, 
which showed symptoms of having been once secured with the 
most jealous care. Brown (whom, since he has set foot upon the 
property of his fathers, we shall hereafter call by his father's 
name of Bertram) wandered from one ruined apartment to 
another, surprised at the massive strength of some parts of the 
building, the rude and impressive magnificence of others, and 
the great extent of the whole. In two of these rooms, close 
beside each other, he saw signs of recent habitation. In one 
small apartment were empty bottles, half-gnawed bones, and 
dried fragments of bread. In the vault which adjoined, and 
which was defended by a strong door, then left open, he 
observed a considerable quantity of straw ; and in both were 
the relics of recent fires. How little was it possible for Bertram 
to conceive, that such trivial circumstances were closely con- 
nected with incidents affecting his prosperity, his honour, 
perhaps his life ! 

After satisfying his curiosity by a hasty glance through the 
interior of the castle, Bertram now advanced through the great 
gateway which opened to the land, and paused to look upon 
the noble landscape which it commanded. Having in v^uo 



294 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

endeavoured to guess the position of Woodboume. and having 
nearly ascertained that of Kippletringan, he turned to take a 
parting look at the stately ruins which he had just traversed. 
He admired the massive and picturesque effect of the huge 
round towers, which, flanking the gateway, gave a double 
portion of depth and majesty to the high yet gloomy arch 
under which it opened. The carved stone escutcheon of the 
ancient family, bearing for their arms three wolves* heads, was 
hung diagonally beneath the helmet and crest, the latter being 
a wolf couchant pierced with an arrow. On either side stood as 
supporters, in full human size, or larger, a salvage man p-oper, 
to use the language of heraldry, wrealhed amd cinctured^ and 
holding in his hand an oak-tree eradicated^ that is, torn up by 
the roots. 

" And the powerftd barons who owned this blazonry," thought 
Bertram, pursuing the usual train of ideas which flows upon 
the mind at such scenes, — "do their posterity continue to 
possess the lands which they had laboured to fortiiy so strongly 1 
or are they wanderers, ignorant perhaps even of the fame or 
power of their forefethers, while their hereditary possessions are 
held by a race of strangers 1 Why is it," he thought, continuing 
to follow out the succession of ideas which the scene prompted, 
— " why is it that some scenes awaken thoughts which belong 
as it were to dreams of early and shadowy recollection, such as 
my old Brahmin Moonshie would have ascribed to a state of 
previous existence? Is it the visions of our sleep that float 
confusedly in our memory, and are recalled by the appearance 
of such real objects as in any respect correspond to the phantoms 
they presented to our imagination? How often do we find 
ourselves in society which we have never before met, and yet 
feel impressed with a mysterious and ill-defined consciousness, 
that neither the scene, the speakers, nor the subject, are entirely 
new ; nay, feel as if we could anticipate that part of the conver- 
sation which has not yet taken place ! It is even so with me 
while I gaze upon that ruin ; — nor can I divest myself of the 
idea, that these massive towers, and that dark gateway, retiring 
through its deep-vaulted and ribbed arches, and dimly lighted 
by the court-yard beyond, are not entirely strange to me. Can 
it be, that they have been familiar to me in infancy, and that 
I am to seek in their vicinity those friends of whom my child- 
hood has still a tender though faint remembrance, and whom I 



GDY MANNERING. 295 

early exchanged for such severe taskmasters 1 Yet Brown, who 
I think would not have deceived me, always told me I was 
brought off fix)m the eastern coast, after a skirmish in which 
my father was killed ; — and I do remember enough of a horrid 
scene of violence to strengthen his account." 

It happened that the spot upon which young Bertram chanced 
to station himself for the better viewing the castle, was nearly 
the same on which his father had died. It was marked by a 
large old oak tree, the only one on the esplanade, and which, 
having been used for executions by the barons of EUangowan, was 
called the Justice-Tree. It chanced, and the coincidence was 
remarkable, that Glossin was this morning engaged with a 
person whom he was in the habit of consulting in such matters, 
concerning some projected repairs, and a large addition to the 
house of EUangowan, — ^and that, having no great pleasure in 
remains so intimately connected with the grandeur of the former 
inhabitants, he had resolved to use the stones of the ruinous 
castle in his new edifice. Accordingly he came up the bank, 
followed by the land-surveyor mentioned on a former occasion, 
who was also in the habit of acting as a sort of architect in case 
of necessity. In drawing the plans, etc., Glossin was in the 
custom of relying upon his own skill. Bertram's back waa 
towards them as they came up the ascent, and he was quite 
shrouded by the branches of the large tree, so that Glossin was 
not aware of the presence of the stranger till he was close upon 
him. 

" Yes, sir, as I have often said before to you, the Old Place 
is a perfect quarry of hewn stone, and it would be better for 
the estate if it were all down, since it is only a den for 
smugglers." 

At this instant Bertram turned short round upon Glossin at 
the distance of two yards only, and said, " Would you destroy 
this fine old castle, sir?" 

His face, person, and voice, were so exactly those of his father 
in his best days, that Glossin, hearing his exclamation, and 
seeing such a sudden apparition in the shape of his patrpn, and 
on nearly the very spot where he had expired, almost thought the < 
grave had given up its dead ! He staggered back two or three 
paces, as if he had received a sudden and deadly wound. He 
instantly recovered, however, his presence of mind, stimulated 
by the thrilling reflection that it was no inhabitant of the other 



I 



296 WAVEJRLEY NOVELS. 

world which stood before him, but an irgured man, whom the 
slightest want of dexterity on his part might lead to acquaint- 
ance with his rights, and the means of asserting them to his 
utter destruction. Yet his ideas were so much confused by the 
shock he had received, that his first question partook of the 
alarm. 

" In the name of God, how came you here ?" said Glossin. 

"How came I here?" repeated Bertram, surprised at the 
solenmity of the address. " I landed a quarter of an hour since 
in the little harbour beneath the castle, and was employing a 
moment's leisure in viewing these fine ruins. I trust there is 
no intrusion r 

"Intrusion, sir? No, sir," said Glossin, in some degree 
recovering his breath, and then whispered a few words into hia 
companion's ear, who immediately left him and descended to- 
wards the house. " Intrusion, sir ? No, sir, you or any gentle- 
man are welcome to satisfy your curiosity." 

" I t^ank you, sir," said Bertram. " They caJI this the Old 
Place, I am informed V* 

" Yes, sir ; in distinction to the New Place, my house there, 
below." 

Glossin, it must be remarked, waa, during the following 
dialogue, on the one hand eager to learn what local recollections 
young Bertram had retained of the scenes of his infancy, and, 
on the other, compelled to be extremely cautious in his replies, 
lest he should awaken or assist, by some name, phrase, or 
anecdote, the slumbering train of association. He suffered, 
indeed, during the whole scene, the agonies which he so richly 
deserved ; yet his pride and interest, like the fortitude of a North 
American Indian, manned him to sustain the tortures inflicted 
at once by the contending stings of a guilty conscience, of hatred, 
of fear, and of suspicion. 

" I wish to ask the name, sir," said Bertram, " of the family 
to whom this stately ruin belongs ?" 

" It is my property, sir — my name is Glossin," 

"Glossin? — Glossin?" repeated Bertram, as if the answer 
were somewhat different from what he expected. " I beg your 
pardon, Mr. Glossin ; I am apt to be very absent. May I ask 
if the castle has been long in your family?" 

" It was built, I believe, long ago, by a family called Mac- 
Dingawaie," answered Glossin ; suppressing, for obvious reasona 



GUY MANNEBING. 297 

the more familiar sound of Bertram, which might have awakened 
the recollections which he was anxious to lull to rest, and slurring 
with an evasive answer the question concerning the endurance 
of his own possession. 

"And how do you read the half-defaced motto, sir," said 
Bertram, " which is upon that scroll above the entablature with 
the arms ?" 

" I — I — I — ^really do not exactly know," replied Glossin. 

" I should be apt to make it out, Owr Bight inaJces our Might" 

" I believe it is something of that kind," said Glossin. 

" May I ask, sir," said the stranger, " if it is your family 
motto 1" 

" N — n — ^no — ^no — ^not ours. That is, I believe, the motto of 
the former people — ^mine is — ^mine is — ^in fact I have had some 
correspondence with Mr. Gumming of the Lyon Office in Edin- 
burgh about mine. He writes me, the Glossins anciently bore 
for a motto, * He who takes it, makes it.'" 

" If there be any uncertainty, sir, and the case were mine," 
said Bertram, " I would assume the old motto, which seems to 
me the better of the two." 

Glossin, whose tongue by this time clove to the roof of his 
mouth, only answered by a nod. 

" It is odd enough," said Bertram, fixing his eye upon the 
arms and gateway, and partly addressing Glossin, partly as it 
were thinking aloud — " it is odd the tricks which our memory 
plays us. The remnants of an old prophecy, or song, or rhyme, 
of some kind or other, return to my recollection on hearing that 
motto — Stay — it is a strange jingle of sounds : 

The dark shall be light, 

And the wrong made right, 

When Bertram's right and Bertram's might 

Shall meet on 

I cannot remember the last line — on some particular height — 
height is the rhyme, I am sure; but I cannot hit upon the 
preceding word." 

"Confound your memory," muttered Glossin, — "you re- 
member by far too much of it !" 

" There are other rhymes connected with these early recollec- 
tions," continued the young man : — " Pray, sir, is there any 
song current in this part of the world respecting a daughter of 
ate King of the lale of Man eloping with a Scottish knight T 



/ 



298 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

'^ I am the worst person in the world to consult upon legend- 
ary antiquities," answered Glossin. 

" I could sing such a ballad," said Bertram, " from one end 
to another, when I was a boy. — ^You must know I left Scotland, 
which is my native country, very young, and those who brought 
me up discouraged all my attempts to preserve recollection of 
my native land, — on account, I believe, of a boyish wiish which 
I had to escape from their charge." 

" Very natural," said Glossin, but speaking as if his utmost 
efforts were unable to unseal his lips beyond the width of a 
quarter of an inch, so that his whole utterance was a kind of 
compressed muttering, very different from the round, bold, 
bullying voice with which he usually spoke. Indeed his 
appearance and demeanour during all this conversation seemed 
to diminish even his strength and stature ; so that he appeared 
to wither into the shadow of himself, now advancing one foot, 
now the other, now stooping and wriggling his shoulders, now 
fumbling with the buttons of his waistcoat, now clasping his 
hands together, — in short, he was the picture of a mean-spirited 
shuffling rascal in the very agonies of detection. To these 
appearances Bertram was totally inattentive, being dragged on 
as it were by the current of his own associations. Indeed, 
although he addressed Glossin, he was not so much thinking 
of him, as arguing upon the embarrassmg state of his own 
feelings and recollection. "Yes," he said, "I preserved my 
language among the sailors, most of whom spoke English, and 
when I could get into a comer by myself, I used to sing all 
that song over from beginning to end. — I have forgot it all 
now — but I remember the tune well, though I cannot guess 
what should at present so strongly recall it to my memory." 

He took his flageolet from his pocket, and played a simple 
melody. Apparently the tune awoke the corresponding associ- 
ations of a damsel, who, close beside a fine spring about half- 
way down the descent, and which had once supplied the castle 
with water, was engaged in bleaching linen. She immediately 
took up the song : 

" Are these the Links of Forth, she said. 
Or are they the crooks of Dee, 
Or the bonny woods of Warroch-Head 
That I so fain would see ? " 

'* By heaven," said Bertram, " it is the very ballad I I must 
learn these words from the girl." 



GUY MANNERING. 299 

" Confusion 1" thought Glossin ; "if I cannot put a stop to 
this all will be out. Oh the devil take all ballads, and ballad- 
makers, and ballad singers ! and that d — d jade too, to set up 

her pipe ! You will have time enough for this on some other 

occasion," he said aloud ; " at present," — (for now he saw his 
emissary with two or three men coming up the bank) — "at 
present we must have some more serious conversation together." 

" How do you mean, sirl" said Bertram, turning short upon 
him, and not liking the tone which he made use of. 

" Why, sir, as to that — I believe your name is Brown 1" said 
Glossin. 

" And what of that, sir f 

Glossin looked over his shoulder to see how near his party 
had approached ; they were coming f^t on. *"' Vanbeest Brown 1 
if I mistake not." 

"And what of that, sir?" said Bertram, with increasing 
astonishment and displeasure. 

" Why, in that case," said Glossin, observing his friends had 
now got upon the level space close beside them — " in that case ^ 
you are my prisoner in the king's name !" At the same time 
he stretched his hand towards Bertram's collar, while two of 
the men who had come up seized upon his arms; he shook 
himself, however, free of their graap by a violent effort, in 
which he pitched the most pertinacious down the bank, and, 
drawing his cutlass, stood on the defensive, while those who 
had felt his strength recoiled from his presence, and gazed at a 
safe distance. "Observe," he called out at the same time, 
" that I have no purpose to resist legal authority ; satisfy me 
that you have a magistrate's warrant, and are authorized to make ^ 
this arrest, and I will obey it quietly ; but let no man who 
loves his life venture to approach me, till I am satisfied for 
what crime, and by whose authority, I am apprehended." 

Glossin then caused one of the officers to show a warrant for 
the apprehension of Vanbeest Brown, accused of the crime of 
wilfully and maliciously shooting at Charles Hazlewood, younger 
of Hazlewood, with an intent to kill, and also of other crimes 
and misdemeanours, and which appointed him, having been so 
apprehended, to be brought before the next magistrate for ex- 
amination. The warrant being formal, and the fact such as he 
could not deny, Bertram threw down his weapon, and submitted 
himself to the officers, who^ flying on him with eagerness 



300 WAVEBLEY NOVELS. 

corresponding to their former pusillanimity, were about to load 
him with irons, alleging the strength and activity whitjh he 
had displayed, as a justification of this severity. But Glossin 
was ashamed or afraid to permit this unnecessary insult, and 
directed the prisoner to be treated with all the decency, and 
even respect, that was consistent with safety. Afraid, however, 
to introduce him into his own house, where still further subjects 
of recollection might have been suggested, and anxious at the 
same time to cover his own proceedings by the sanction of 
another* s authority, he ordered hia carriage (for he had lately 
set up a carriage) to be got ready, and in the meantime 
directed refreshments to be given to the prisoner and the 
officers, who were consigned to one of the rooms in the old 
castle, until the means of conveyance for examination before a 
magistrate should be provided. 



CHAPTER FORTY-SECOND. 



-- Bring in the eiddence 



Thou robed man of justice, take thy place, 
And thou, his yoke-fellow of equity, 
Bench by his side — you are of the commission, 
Sit you too. 

KiNQ Lear. 

While the carriage was getting ready, Glossin had a letter to 
compose, about which he wasted no small time. It was to his 
neighbour, as he was fond of calling him, Sir Robert Hazlewood 
of Hazlewood, the head of an ancient and powerful interest in 
the county, which had, in the decadence of the Ellangowan 
family, gradually succeeded to much of their authority and in- 
fluence. The present representative of the family was an elderly 
man, dotingly fond of his own family, which was limited to an 
only son and daughter, and stoically indijQferent to the fate of all 
mankind besides. For the rest, he was honourable in hia general 
dealings, because he waa afraid to suffer the censure of the world, 
and just from a better motive. He was presumptuously over- 
conceited on the score of family pride and importaiice — a feeHng 
considerably enhanced by his late succession to the title of a 
Nova Scotia Baronet ; and he hated the memory of the Elian- 



GUT MANNEMNG. 301 

gowan family, though now a memory only, because a certain 
baron of that house was traditionally reported to have caused 
the founder of the Hazlewood famUy hold his stirrup untn he 
mounted into his saddle. In his general deportment he was 
pompous and important, affecting a species of florid elocution 
which often became ridiculous from his misarranging the triads 
and quartemions with which he loaded his sentences. 

To this personage Glossin was now to write in such a con- 
ciliatory style as might be most acceptable to his vanity and 
family pride, and the following was the form of his note : — 

" Mr. Gilbert Glossin " (he longed to add of EUangowan, but 
prudence prevailed, and he suppressed that territorial designa- 
tion) — " Mr. Gilbert Glossin has the honour to offer his most 
respectful compliments to Sir Kobert Hazlewood, and to inform 
him, that he has this morning been fortunate enough to secure 
the person who wounded Mr. C. Hazlewood. As Sir Robert 
Hazlewood may probably choose to conduct the examination of 
this criminal himself, Mr. G. Glossin will cause the man to be 
carried to the inn at Kippletringan, or to Hazlewood-House, as 
Sir Robert Hazlewood may be pleased to direct : And, with Sir 
Robert Hazlewood's permission, Mr. G. Glossin will attend him 
at either of these places with the proofs and declarations which 
he has been so fortunate as to collect respecting this atrocious 
business." 

Addressed, 
" Sm Robert Hazlewood of Hazlewood, Bart. 
" Hazlewood House, &c. &c. 

**ELLn. Gn. \ 
Tuesday." > 

This note he despatched by a servant on horseback, and 
having given the man some time to get arhead, and desired him 
to ride fast,. he ordered two ofl&cers of justice to get into the 
carriage with Bertram; and he himself, mounting his horse, 
accompanied them at a slow pace to the point where the roads 
to Kippletringan and Hazlewood House separated, and there 
awaited the return of his messenger, in order that his farther 
route might be determined by the answer he should receive fi-om 
the Baronet. In about half an hour his servant returned with 
the following answer, handsomely folded and sealed with the 



302 WAVEELEY NOVELS. 

Hazlewood armB, having the Nova Scotia badge depending from 
the shield : — 

" Sir Robert Hazlewood of Hazlewood returns Mr. G. Glossin'E 

compliments, and thanks him for the trouble he has taken in a 

matter affecting the safety of Sir Robert's family. Sir R. H. 

requests Mr. G. G. will have the goodness to bring the prisoner 

to Hazlewood House for examination, with the other proofs or 

declarations which he mentions. And after the business is over, 

in case Mr. G. G. is not otherwise engaged, Sir R. and Lady 

Hazlewood request his company to dinner." 

Addressed, 

" Mr. GiLBEBT Glossin, &a 
" Hazlewood-House, \ 
Tuesday." i 

" Soh !" thought Mr. Glossin, "here is one finger in at least, 
and that I will make the means of introducing my whole hand. 
But I must first get clear of this wretched young fellow. — I 
think I can manage Sir Robert. He is dull and pomjpous, and 
will be alike disposed to listen to my suggestions upon the law 
of the case, and to assume the credit of acting upon them as his 
own proper motion. So I shall have the advantage of being 
the real magistrate, without the odium of responsibility." 

As he cherished these hopes and expectations, the carriage 
approached Hazlewood House through a noble avenue of old 
oaks, which shrouded the ancient abbey-resembling building so 
called. It was a large edifice built at different periods, part 
having actually been a priory, upon the suppression of which, 
in the time of Queen Mary, the first of the family had obtained 
a gift of the house and surrounding lands from the crown. 
It was pleasantly situated in a large deer-park, on the banks of 
the river we have before mentioned. The scenery around was 
(A a dark, . solenm, and somewhat melancholy cast, according 
well with the architecture of the house. Everything appeared 
to be kept in the highest possible order, and announced the 
opulence and rank of the proprietor. 

As Mr. Glossin's carriage stopped at the door of the hall. Sir 
Robert reconnoitred the new vehicle firom the windows. Accord- 
ing to his aristocratic feelings, there was a degree of presumption 

in this novus homo, this Mr. Gilbert Glossin, late writer in , 

presuming to set up such an accommodation at aU : but his 



GUY MANNERING. 303 

WTB.th was mitigated when he observed that the mantle upon 
the panels only bore a plain cipher of G. G. This apparent 
modesty waa indeed solely owing to the delay of Mr. Gumming 
of the Lyon Ofl&ce, who, being at that time engaged in discover- 
ing and matriculating the arms of two commissaries from North 
America, three English-Irish peers, and two great Jamaica 
traders, had been more slow than usual in finding an escutcheon 
for the new lairQ of Ellangowan. But this delay told to the 
advantage of Glossin in the opinjon of the proud Baronet, 

While the officers of justice detained their prisoner in a sort 
of steward's room, Mr. Glossin was ushered into what waa called 
the great oak-parlour, a long room, panelled with well-vamished 
wainscot, and adorned with the grim portraits of Sir Robert 
Hazlewood's ancestry. The visitor, who had no internal con- 
sciousness of worth to balance that of meanness of birth, felt 
his inferiority, and by the depth of his bow and the obsequious- 
ness of his demeanour, showed that the Laird of Ellangowan 
was sunk for the time in the old and submissive habits of the 
quondam retainer of the law. He would have persuaded him- 
self, indeed, that he was only humouring the pride of the old 
Baronet, for the purpose of turning it to his own advantage ; — 
but his feelings were of a mingled nature, and he felt the in- 
fluence of those very prejudices which he pretended to flatter. 

The Baronet received hia visitor with that condescending 
parade which was meant at once to assert hia own vast superi- 
ority, and to show the generosity and courtesy with which he 
could waive it, and descend to the level of ordinary conversation 
with ordinary men. He thanked Glossin for his attention to 
a matter in which "young Hazlewood" was so intimately 
concerned, and, pointing to his family pictures, observed, with 
a gracious smile, "Indeed these venerable gentlemen, Mr. 
Glossin, are as much obliged as I am in this case, for the labour, 
pains, care, and trouble which you have taken in their behalf; 
and I have no doubt, were they capable of expressing themi 
selves, would join me, sir, in thanking you for the favour you 
have conferred upon the house of Hazlewood, by taking care, 
and trouble, sir, and interest, in behalf of the young gentleman 
who is to continue their name and family." 

Thrice bowed Glossin, and each time more profoundly than 
before ; once in honour of the knight who stood upright before 
him. once in respect to the quiet personages who patiently hung 



804 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

upon the wainscot, and a third time in deference to the young 
gentleman who was to carry on the name and family. Rot/wrier 
as he was, Sir Robert was gratified by the homage which he 
rendered, and proceeded, in a tone of gracious familiarity — 
" And now, Mr. Glossin, my exceeding good friend, you must 
allow me to avail myself of your knowledge of law in our 
proceedings in this matter. I am not much in the habit of 
acting as a justice of the peace; it suits better with other 
gentlemen, whose domestic and family affairs require less con- 
stant superintendence, attention, and management than mine.'' 

Of course, whatever small assistance Mr. Glossin could render 
was entirely at Sir Robert Hazlewood's service; but as Sir 
Robert Hazlewood's name stood high in the list of the faculty, 
the said Mr. Glossin could not presume to hope it could be 
either necessary or usefuL 

" Why, my good sir, you will understand me only to mean, 
that I am something deficient in the practical knowledge of the 
ordinary details of justice-business. I was indeed educated to 
the bar, and might boast perhaps at one time that I had made 
some progress in the speculative, and abstract, and abstruse 
doctrines of our municipal code; but there is in the present 
day so little opportunity of a man oi" family and fortune rising 
to that eminence at the bar which is attained by adventurers, 
who are as willing to plead for John-a-Nokes as for the first 
noble of the land, that I was really early disgusted with practice. 
The first case, indeed, which was laid on my table quite sickened 
me ; it respected a bargain, sir, of tallow, between a butcher 
and a candlemaker ; and I found it was expected that I should 
grease my mouth, not only with their vulgar names, but with 
all the technical terms and phrases, and peculiar language of 
their dirty arts. Upon my honour, my good sir, I have never 
been able to bear the smell of a tallow-candle since." 

Pitying, as seemed to be expected, the mean use to which 
the Baronet's faculties had been degraded on this melancholy 
occasion, Mr. Glossin offered to ofiBciate as clerk or assessor, or 
in any way in which he could be most useful. " And with a 
view to possessing you of the whole business, and in the first 
place, there will, I believe, be no difficulty in proving the main 
fact, that this was the person who fired the unhappy piece. 
Should he deny it, it can be proved by Mr. Hazlewood, I pre- 
sume ?" 



GUY MANNERING. 306 

" Young flazlewood is not at home to-day, Mr. Glossin." 

" But we can have the oath of the servant who attended him," 
said the ready Mr. Glossin ; " indeed I hardly .think the fact 
will be disputed. I am more apprehensive that, from the too 
favourable and indulgent manner in which I have understood 
that Mr. Hazlewood has been pleased to represent the business, 
the assault may be considered as accidental, and the injury as 
unintentional, so that the fellow may be immediately set at 
liberty to do more mischief." 

" I have not the honour to know the gentleman who now 
holds the office of king's advocate," replied Sir Robert gravely ; 
" but I presume, sir — ^nay, I am confident, that he will consider 
the mere fact of having wounded young Hazlewood of Hazle- 
wood, even by inadvertency, to take the matter in its mildest 
and gentlest, and in its most favourable and improbable light, 
as a crime which will be too easily atoned by imprisonment, and 
as more deserving of deportation." 

" Indeed, Sir Robert," said his assenting brother in justice, 
" I am entirely of your opinion ; but I don't know how it is, I 
have observed the Edinburgh gentlemen of the bar, and even 
the officers of the crown, pique themselves upon an indifferent 
administration of justice, without respect to rank and family ; 
and I should fear" 

" How, sir, without respect to rank and family ? Will you 
tell me (hat doctrine can be held by men of birth, and legal 
education 1 No, sir ; if a trifle stolen in the street is termed 
mere pickery, but is elevated into sacrilege if the crime be com- 
mitted in a church, so, according to the just gradations of 
society, the guilt of an injury is enhanced by the rank of the 
person to whom it is offered, done, or perpetrated, sir." 

Glossin bowed low to this declaration ex cathedra, but observed, 
that in case of the very worst, and of such unnatural doctrines 
being actually held as he had already hinted, "the, law had 
another hold on Mr. Vanbeest Brown." 

" Vanbeest Brown ! is that the fellow's name 1 Good God ! 
that young Hazlewood of Hazlewood should have had his life 
endangered, the clavicle of his right shoulder considerably 
lacerated and dislodged, several large drops or slugs deposited 
in the acromion process, as the account of the family surgeon 
expressly bears — ^and all by an obscure wretch named Vanbeest 
B^o^\'n !" 

YOU n. X 



306 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

" Why, really, Sir Robert, it is a thing which one can hardly 
bear to think of; but, begging ten thousand pardons for resum- 
ing what I was about to say, a person of the same name is, as 
appears from these papers " (producing Dirk Hatteraick^s pocket- 
book), " mate to the smuggling vessel who offered such violence 
at Woodboume, and I have no doubt that this is the same uidi- 
vidual ; which, however, your acute discrimination will easily 
be able to ascertain." 

" The same, my good sir, he must assuredly be — ^it would be 
ii^justice even to the meanest of the people, to suppose there 
could be found among them two persons doomed to bear a name 
so shocking to one's ears as this of Vanbeest Brown." 

"True, Sir Robert; most unquestionably; there cannot be 
a shadow of doubt of it. But you see farther, that this circum- 
stance accounts for the man^s desperate conduct. You, Sir 
Robert, will discover the motive for his crime — ^you, I say, wiB 
discover it without difficulty, on your giving your mind to the 
examination ; for my part, I cannot help suspecting the moving 
spring to have been revenge for the gallantry with which Mr. 
Hazlewood, with all the spirit of his renowned forefathers, 
defended the house at Woodboume against this villain and his 
lawless companions." 

" I will inquire into it, my good sir," said the learned Baronet. 
" Yet even now I venture to conjecture that I shall adopt the 
solution or explanation of this riddle, enigma, or mystery, which 
you have in some degree thus started. Yes ! revenge it must 
be — and, good Heaven ! entertained by and against whom % — 
entertained, fostered, cherished, against young Hazlewood of 
Hazlewood, and in part carried into effect, executed, and imple- 
mented, by the hand of Vanbeest Brown ! These are dreadful 
days indeed, my worthy neighbour" (this epithet indicated a 
rapid advance in the Baronet's good graces) — " days when the 
bulwarks of society are shaken to their mighty base, and that 
rank which forms, as it were, its highest grace and ornament, is 
mingled and confused with the viler parts of the architecture. 
Oh my good Mr. Gilbert Glossin, in my time, sir, the use of 
swords and pistols, and such honourable arms, was reserved by 
the nobility and gentry to themselves, and the disputes of the 
vulgar were decided by the weapons which nature had given 
them, or by cudgels cut, broken, or hewed out of the next wood. 
But now, sir, the douted shoe of the peasant galls the kibe of 



GUT MAKNEEING. 307 

the courtier. The lower ranks have their quarrels, sir, and 
their points of honour, and their revenges, which they must 
bring, forsooth, to fatal arbitrament. But well, well 1 it will 
last my time — ^let us have in this fellow, this Vaubeest Brown, 
and make an end of him at least for the present '* 



CHAPTER FORTY-THIRD. 

*Twas he 



Gave heat unto the injury, which retumed. 
Like a petard ill lighted, into the bosom 
Of him gave fire to't. Yet I hope his hurt 
Is not so dangerous hut he may recover. 

Faib Maid of the Iim. 

The prisoner was now presented before the two worshipful 
magistrates. Glossin, partly from some compunctious visitiags, 
and partly out of his cautious resolution to suffer Sir Robert 
Hazlewood to be the ostensible manager of the whole examina- 
tion, looked down upon the table, and busied himself with 
reading and arranging the papers respecting the business, only 
now and then throwing in a skilful catchword as prompter, 
when he saw the principal, and apparently most active, magistrate 
stand in need of a hint. As for Sir Robert Hazlewood, he 
assumed, on his part, a happy mixture of the austerity of the 
justice, combined with the display of personal dignity apper- 
taining to the Baronet of ancient family. 

" There, constables, let him stand there at the bottom of the 
table. — Be so good as look me in the face, sir, and raise your 
voice as you answer the questions which I am going to put 
to you." 

" May I beg, in the first place, to know, sir, who it is that 
takes the trouble to interrogate mel" said the prisoner; "for 
the honest gentlemen who have brought me here have not been 
pleased to furnish any information upon that point." 

" And pray, sir," answered Sir Robert, " what has my name 
and quality to do with the questions I am about to ask you?" 

"Nothing, perhaps, sir," replied Bertram; "but it may 
considerably influence my disposition to answer them." 

^^Why, then, sir, you will please to be informed that you 



308 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

are in the presence of Sir Robert Hazlewood of Hazlewood, and 
another justice of peace for this county — that's all." 

As this intimation produced a less stunning effect upon the 
prisoner than he had anticipated, Sir Robert proceeded in his 
investigation with an increasing dislike to the object of it. 

" Is your name Vanbeest Brown, sir]" 

" It is," answered the prisoner. 

" So far well ; — and how are we to design you farther, sir ]" 
demanded the Justice. 

" Captain in his Majesty's regiment of horse," answered 

Bertram. 

The Baronet's ears received this intimation with astonish- 
ment ; but he was refreshed in courage by an incredulous look 
from Glossin, and by hearing him gently utter a sort of 
interjectional whistle, in a note of surprise and contempt. " I 
believe, my friend," said Sir Robert, "we shall find for you, 
before we part, a more humble title." 

"If you do, sir," replied his prisoner, "I shall willingly 
submit to any pimishment which such an imposture shall be 
thought to deserve." 

" Well, sir, we shall see," continued Sir Robert. " Do you 
know young Hazlewood of Hazlewood ]" 

" I never saw the gentleman who I am informed bears that 
name excepting once, and I regret that it was under very un- 
pleasant circumstances." 

" You mean to acknowledge, then," said the Baronet, " that 
you inflicted upon young Hazlewood of Hazlewood that wound 
which endangered his life, considerably lacerated the clavicle of 
his right shoulder, and deposited, as the family surgeon declares, 
several large drops or slugs in the acromion process]" 

" Why, sir," replied Bertram, " I can only say I am equally 
ignorant of and sorry for the extent of the damage which the 
young gentleman has sustained. I met him in a narrow path, 
walking with two ladies and a servant, and before I could either 
pass them or address them, this young Hazlewood took his gun 
from his servant, presented it against my body, and commanded 
me in the most haughty tone to stand back. I was neither 
inclined to submit to his authority, nor to leave him in possession 
of the means to injure me, which he seemed disposed to use 
with such rashness. I therefore closed with him for the purpose 
of disarming him ; and just as I had nearly effected my purpose, 



GUY MANNEKING. 309 

the piece went off accidentally, and, to my regret then and since, 
inflicted upon the young gentleman a severer chastisement than 
I desired, though I am glad to understand it is like to prove no 
more than his unprovoked folly deserved." 

" And so, sir," said the Baronet, every feature swollen with 
offended dignity, — " you, sir, admit, sir, that it was your purpose, 
sir, and your intention, sir, and the real jet and object of your 
assault, sir, to disarm young Hazlewood of Hazlewood of his 
gun, sir, or his fowling-piece, or his fiizee, or whatever you 
please to call it, sir, upon the king's highway, sirl — I think 
this will do, my worthy neighbour ! I think he should stand 
committed 1" 

" You are by far the best judge. Sir Robert," said Glossin, 
in his most insinuating tone ; " but if I might presume to hint, 
there was something about these smugglers." 

" Very true, good sir. — ^And besides, sir, you, Vanbeest Brown, 
who call yourself a captain in his Mjgesty's service, are no better 
or worse than a rascally mate of a smuggler !" 

" Really, sir," said Bertram, " you are an old gentleman, and 
acting under some strange delusion, otherwise I should be very 
angry with you." 

" Old gentleman, sir ! — strange delusion, sir !" said Sir Robert, 

colouring with indignation — " I protest and declare Why, 

sir, have you any papers or letters that can establish your 
pretended rank, and estate, and commission?" 

"None at present, sir," answered Bertram; — "but in the 
return of a post or two " 

" And how do you, sir," continued the Baronet, " if you are 
a captain in his Majesty's service, how do you chance to be 
travelling in Scotland without letters of introduction, credentials, 
baggage,. or anything belonging to your pretended rank, estate, 
and condition, as I said before ]" 

"Sir," replied the prisoner, "I had the misfortune to be 
robbed of my clothes and baggage." 

" Oho ! then you are the gentleman who took a post-chaise 

from to Ejppletringan, gave the boy the slip on the road, 

and sent two of your accomplices to beat the boy and bring 
away the baggage 1" 

"I was, sir, in a carriage as you describe, was obliged to 
alight in the snow, and lost my way endeavouring to find the 
road to Eippletringan. The landlady of the inn will inform 



810 WAVERLET NOVEIA 

you that on my arrival there the next day, my first inquiries 
were after the boy," 

" Then give me leave to ask where you spent the night 1 — 
not in the snow, I presume ? you do not suppose that will pass, 
or be taken, credited, and received ?" 

" I beg leave," said Bertram, his recollection turning to the 
gipsy female, and to the promise he had given her, "I b^ 
leave to decline answering that question." 

"I thought as much," said Sir Robert. — "Were you not, 
during that night, in the ruins of Demcleughf — ^in the ruins 
of Demcleugh, sir 1" 

"I have told you that I do not intend answering that 
question," replied Bertram, 

"Well, sir, then you will stand committed, sir," said Sir 
Robert, " and be sent to prison, sir, that's all, sir. — Have the 
goodness to look at these papers : are you the Vanbeest Brown 
who is there mentioned ?" 

It must be remarked that Glossin had shuffled among the 
papers some writings which really did belong to Bertram, and 
which had been found by the officers in the old vault where his 
portmanteau was ransacked. 

" Some of these papers," said Bertram, looking over them, 
" are mine, and were in my portfolio when it was stolen from 
the post-chaise. They are memoranda of little value, and, I 
see, have been careftilly selected as affording no evidence of my 
rank or character, which many of the other papers would have 
established fully. They are mingled with ship-accounts and 
other papers, belonging apparently to a person of the same 



name." 



" And wilt thou attempt to persuade me, friend," demanded 
Sir Robert, "that there are two persons in this country, at 
the same time, of thy very uncommon and awkwardly sounding 
name?" 

" I really do not see, sir, as there is an old Hazlewood and a 
young Hazlewood, why there should not be an old and a young 
Vanbeest Brown, And to speak seriously, I was educated in 
Holland, and I know that this name, however uncouth it may 
soimd in British ears" 

Glossin, conscious that the prisoner was now about to enter 
upon dangerous ground, interfered, though the interruption 
was unnecessary, for the purpose of diverting the attention of 



GUT MANNERING. 811 

Sir Robert Hazlewood, who was speechless and motionless 
with indignation at the presumptuous comparison implied in 
Bertram's last speech. In fact, the veins of his throat and of 
his temples swelled almost to bursting, and he sat with the 
indignant and disconcerted air of one who has received a 
mortal insult firom a quarter to which he holds it unmeet and 
indecorous to make any reply. While with a bent brow and 
an angry eye he was drawing in his breath slowly and majesti- 
cally, and puffing it forth again with deep and solemn exertion, 
-Glossin stepped in to his assistance. "I should think, now, 
Sir Eobert, with great submission, that this matter may be 
closed. One of the constables, besides the pregnant proof 
already produced, offers to make oath, that the sword of which 
the prisoner was this morning deprived (while using it, by the 
way, in resistance to a legal warrant) was a cutlass taken ifrom 
him in a fray between the officers and smugglers, just previous to 
their attack upon Woodboume. And yet," he added, " I would 
not have you form any rash construction upon that subject ; per- 
haps the young man can explain how he came by that weapon." 

"That question, sir," said Bertram, "I shall also leave 
unanswered." 

"There is yet another circumstance to be inquired into, 
always under Sir Robert's leave," insinuated Glossin. " This 
prisoner put into the hands of Mrs. Mac-Candlish of Kipple- 
tringan, a parcel containing a variety of gold coins and valuable 
articles of different kinds. Perhaps, Sir Robert, you might 
think it right to ask, how he came by property of a description 
which seldom occurs." 

" You, sir — Mr. Vanbeest Brown, sir, — you hear the question, 
sir, which the gentleman asks youl" 

"I have particular reasons for declining to answer that 
question," answered Bertram. 

"Then I am afraid, sir," said Glossin, who had brought 
matters to the point he desired to reach, " our duty must lay 
us under the necessity to sign a warrant of committal." 

"As you please, sir," answered Bertram; "take care, how- 
ever, what you do. Observe, that I inform you that I am a 

captain in his Majesty's regiment, and that I am just 

returned from India, and therefore cannot possibly be connected 
with any of those contraband traders you talk of; that my 
Lieutenant-Colonel is now at Nottingham, the Major, with the 



312 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

officera of my corps, at Kingston-upon-Thames. I offer before 
you both to submit to any degree of ignominy, if, within the 
return of the Kingston and Nottingham posts, I am not able to 
establish these points. Or you may write to the agent for the 
regiment, if you please, and" 

" This is all very well, sir," said Glossin, beginning to fear 
lest the firm expostulation of Bertram should make some 
impression on Sir Robert, who would almost have died of 
shame at committing such a solecism a£{ sending a captain of 
horse to jail — " This is all very well, sir ; but is there no person 
nearer whom you could refer to?" 

" There are only two persons in this country who know any- 
thing of me," replied the prisoner. " One is a plain Liddesdale 
sheep-farmer, called Dinmont of Charlies-hope ; but he knows 
nothing more of me than what I told him, and what I now tell 
you." 

"Why, this is well enough. Sir Robert !" said Glossin. "I 
suppose he would bring forward this thick-skulled fellow to give 
his oath of credulity. Sir Robert, ha ! ha ! ha !" 

"And what is your other witness, firiendl" said the Baronet. 

"A gentleman whom I have some reluctance to mention, 
because of certain private reasons ; but under whose command 
T served some time in India, and who is too much a man of 
honour to refuse his testimony to my character as a soldier and 
gentleman." 

" And who is this doughty witness, pray, sir ?" said Sir Robert, 
— "some half-pay quarter-master or sergeant, I suppose?" 

"Colonel Guy Mannering, late of the regiment, in 

which, as I told you, I have a troop." 

"Colonel Guy Mannering!" thought Glossin, — "who the 
devil could have guessed this 1" 

" Colonel Guy Mannering !" echoed the Baronet, considerably 
shaken in his opinion. — "My good sir," — ^apart to Glossin, 
" the young man with a dreadfully plebeian name, and a good 
deal of modest assurance, has nevertheless something of the 
tone, and manners, and feeling of a gentleman, of one at least 
who has lived in good society ;— they do give commissions very 
loosely, and carelessly, and inaccurately, in India ; — I think we 
had better pause till Colonel Mannering shall return; he is 
now, I believe, at Edinburgh." 

"You are in every respect the best judge. Sir Robert." 



GUY MANNERING. 313 

answered Glossin, "in every possible respect. I would only 
submit to you, that we are certainly hardly entitled to dismiss 
this man upon an assertion which cannot be satisfied by proof, 
and that we shall incur a heavy responsibility by detaining him 
in private custody, without committing him to a public jaiL 
Undoubtedly, however, you are the best judge. Sir Robert; — 
and I would only say, for my own part, that I veiy lately 
incurred severe censure by detaining a person in a place which 
I thought perfectly secure, and under the custody of the proper 
oflBcers. The man made his escape, and I have no doubt my own 
character for attention and circimispection as a magistrate has 
in some degree suffered — I only hint this — I will join in any 
step you, Sir Robert, think most advisable." But Mr. Glossin 
was well aware that such a hint was of power sufficient to decide 
the motions of his self-important, but not self-relying colleague. 
So that Sir Robert Hazlewood summed up the business in the 
following speech, which proceeded partly upon the supposition 
of the prisoner being really a gentleman, and partly upon the 
opposite belief that he was a villain and an assassin. 

" Sir, Mr. Vanbeest Brown — I would call you Captain Brown 
if there was the least reason, or cause, or grounds to suppose 
that you are a captain, or had a troop in the very respectable 
corps you mention, or indeed in any other corps in his Majesty's 
service, as to which circumstance I beg to be understood to 
give no positive, settled, or unalterable judgment, declaration, 
or opinion. I say therefore, sir, Mr. Brown, we have deter 
mined, considering the unpleasant predicament in which you 
now stand, having been robbed, as you say, an assertion as to 
which I suspend my opinion, and being possessed of much and 
valuable treasure, and of a brass-handled cutlass besides, as to 
your obtaining which you will favour us with no explanation — 
I say, sir, we have determined and resolved, and made up our 
minds, to commit you to jail, or rather to assign you an apart- 
ment therein, in order that you may be forthcoming upon 
Colonel Mannering's return from Edinburgh." 

" With humble submission. Sir Robert," said Glossin, " may 
I inquire if it is your purpose to send this young gentleman to 
the county jail ]— for if that were not your settled intention, 
I would take the liberty to hint, that there would be less hard- 
ship in sending him to the Bridewell at Portanferry, where he 
caji be secured without public exposure, — ^a circumstance which, 



814 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

on the mere chance of his story being really tme, is much to 
be avoided." 

"Why, there is a guard of soldiers at Portanferry, to be 
sure, for protection of the goods in the Custom-house; and 
upon the whole, considering everything, and that the place is 
comfortable for such a place— I say, all things considered, we 
wiU commit this person, I would rather say authorise him to be 
detained, in the workhouse at Portanferry." 

The warrant was made out accordingly, and Bertram was 
mformed he was next morning to be removed to his pla<^ of 
confinement, as Sir Robert had determined he should not be 
taken there imder cloud of night, for fear of rescue. He was, 
during the interval, to be detained at Hazlewood-House. 

" It cannot be so hard as my imprisonment by the Looties in 
India," he thought ; " nor can it last so long. But the deuce 
take the old formal dunderhead, and his more sly associate, 
who speaks always under his breath, — they cannot understand 
a plain man's story when it is told them," 

In the meanwhile Glossin took leave of the Baronet with a 
thousand respectful bows and cringing apologies for not accept- 
ing his invitation to dinner, and venturing to hope he might be 
pardoned in paying his respects to him, Lady Hazlewood, and 
young Mr. Hazlewood, on some future occasion. 

" Certainly, sir," said the Baronet very graciously. " I hope 
our family was never at any time deficient in civility to our 
neighbours; and when I ride that way, good Mr. Glossin, I 
wiU convince you of this by calling at your house as familiarly 
as is consistent — that is, as can be hoped or expected." 

" And now," said Glossin to himself, " to find Dhk Hatter- 
aick and his people — to get the guard sent off from the Custom- 
house — and then for the grand cast of the dice. Everything 
must depend upon speed. How lucky that Mannering has 
betaken himself to Edinburgh ! His Imowledge of this young 
fellow is a most perilous addition to my dangers" — here he 
suffered his horse to slacken his pace. " What if I should try 
to compound with the heir ? It*s likely he might be brought to 
pay a round sum for restitution, and I could give up Hatteraick. 
— But no, no, no ! there were too many eyes on me — Hatteraick 
himself, and the gipsy sailor, and that old hag. — No, no ! I 
must stick to my original plan." And with that he struck his 
spurs against his horse's flsmks, and rode forward at a hard trot 
to put his machines \n motion 



GUY MANNERING. S16 



GHAPTEE FORTY-FOURTH. 

A prison is a house of care 
A place where none can thrive, 
A touchstone true to try a friend, 
A grave for one alive. 
Sometimes a place of right, 
Sometimes a place of -wrong, 
Sometimes a place of rogues and thieves, 
And honest men among. 

iNscBipnoN ON Edinbubgh Tolbooth. 

Early on the following morning, the carriage which had brought 
Bertram to Hazlewood-House was, with his two silent and surly 
attendants, appointed to convey him to his place of confinement 
at Portanfeny. This building adjoined to the Custom-house 
established at that little seaport, and both were situated so close 
to the sea-beach, that it was necessary to defend the back part 
with a large and strong rampart or bulwark of huge stones, dis- 
posed in a slope towards the surf, which often reached and broke 
upon them. The firont was surrounded by a high wall, enclos 
ing a small court-yard, within which the miserable inmates ol 
the mansion were occasionally permitted to take exercise and 
air. The prison was used as a House of Correction, and some- 
times as a chapel of ease to the county jail, which was old, and 
far from being conveniently situated with reference to the 
Kippletringan district of the county. Mac-Guffog, the officer 
by whom Bertram had at first been apprehended, and who was 
now in attendance upon him, was keeper of this palace of little- 
ease. He caused the carriage to be drawn close up to the outer 
gate, and got out himself to summon the warders. The noise 
of his rap alarmed some twenty or thirty ragged boys, who left 
off sailing their mimic sloops and frigates in the little pools of 
salt water left by the receding tide, and hastily crowded round 
the vehicle to see what luckless being was to be delivered to 
the prison-house out of "Glossin's braw new carriage," The 
door of the court-yard, after the heavy clankmg of many chains 
and bars, was opened by Mrs. Mac-Guffog — an awfuJ spectacle, 
being a woman for strength and resolution capable of maintain- 
ing order among her riotous inmates, and of administering the 
discipline of the house, as it was called, during the absence of 



SIR WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

her husband, or when he chanced to have taken an over-doee 
of the creature. The growling voice of this Amazon, which 
rivalled in harshness the crashing music of her own bolts and 
bars, soon dispersed in every direction the little varlets who 
had thronged around her threshold, and she next addressed her 
amiable helpmate : — 

^' Be sharp, man, and get out the swell, canst thou not V* 

" Hold your tongue, and be d — d, you !" answered her 

loving husband, with two additional epithets of great energy^ 
but which we beg to be excused from repeating. Then address- 
ing Bertram — " Come, will you get out, my handy lad, or must 
we lend you a lift ?" 

Bertram came out of the carriage, and, collared by the con- 
stable as he put his foot on the ground, was dragged, though he 
offered no resistance, across the threshold, amid the continued 
shouts of the little soma culottes, who looked on at such distance 
as their fear of Mrs. Mac-Guffog permitted. The instant his 
foot had crossed the fatal porch, the portress again dropped hex 
chains, drew her bolts, and turning with both hands an immense 
key, took it from the lock, and thrust it into a huge side-pocket 
of red cloth. 

Bertram was now in the small court already mentioned. Two 
or three prisoners were sauntering along the pavement, and 
deriving, as it were, a feeling of refreshment from the momentary 
glimpse with which the opening door had extended their pro- 
spect to the other side of a dirty street. Nor can this be thought 
surprising, when it is considered that, unless on such occasions, 
their view was confined to the grated front of their prison, the 
high and sable walls of the court-yard, the heaven above them, 
and the pavement beneath their feet ; a sameness of landscape, 
which, to use the poet's expression, "lay like a load on the 
wearied eye," and had fostered in some a callous and dull mis- 
anthropy, in others that sickness of the heart which induces him 
who is immured already in a living grave to wish for a sepulchre 
yet more calm and sequestered. 

Mac-Guffog, when they entered the court-yard, suffered 
Bertram to pause for a minute, and look upon his companions in 
affliction. When he had cast his eye around, on faces on which 
guilt, and despondence, and low excess, had fixed their stigma 
— upon the spendthrift, and the swindler, and the thief, the 
bankrupt debtor, the "moping idiot, and the madman gay/ 



GUY MAJINERING. S17 

whom a paltry spirit of economy congregated to share this 
dismal habitation, he felt his heart recoil with inexpressible 
loathing from enduring the contamination of their society even 
for a moment. 

" I hope, sir," he said to the keeper, " you intend to assign 
me a place of confinement apart ]" 

" And what should I be the better of that ?" 

" Why, sir, I can but be detained here a day or two, and it 
would be very disagreeable to me to mix in the sort of company 
this place affords." 

"And what do I care for that?" 

" Why, then, sir, to speak to your feelings," said Bertram, 
" I should be willing to make you a handsome compliment for 
this indulgence." 

" Ay, but when. Captain ? when and how 1 that's the ques. 
tion, or rather the twa questions," said the jailor. 

" When I am delivered, and get my remittances from Eng- 
land," answered the prisoner. 

Mac-Guffog shook his head incredulously. 

" Why, friend, you do not pretend to believe that I am really 
a malefactor ?" said Bertram. 

" Why, I no ken," said the fellow ; " but if you cure on the 
account, ye're nae sharp ane, that's the day-light o't." 

" And why do you say I am no sharp one ?" 

" Why, wha but a crack-brained greenhorn wad hae let them 
keep up the siller that ye left at the Gordon- Arms?" said the 
constable. " Deil fetch me, but I wad have had it out o' their 
wames ! Ye had nae right to be strippit o* your money and 
sent to jail without a mark to pay your fees ; they might have 
keepit the rest o' the articles for evidence. But why, for a blind 
bottle-head, did not ye ask the guineas ? and I kept winking 
and nodding a' the time, and the donnert deevil wad never ance 
look my way !" 

" Well, sir," replied Bertram, " if I have a title to have that 
property delivered up to me, I shall apply for it ; and there is 
a good deal more than enough to pay any demand you can 
set up." 

" I dinna ken a bit about that," said Mac-Guffog ; " ye may 
be here lang eneugh. And then the gieing credit maun be 
considered in the fees. But, however, as ye do seem to be a 
chap by common, though my wife says I lose by my good- 



318 WAVJIRLEY NOVELS. 

nature, if ye gie me an order for my fees upon that money — I 
dare say Glossin will make it forthcoming — I ken something 
about an escape from Ellangowan — ay, ay, heTl be glad to carry 
me through, and be neighbour-like." 

" Well, sir," replied Bertram, " if I am not furnished in a 
day or two otherwise, you shall have such an order." 

"Weel, weel, then ye shall be put up like a prince," said 
Mac-Guffog. " But mark ye me, friend, that we may have nae 
colly-shangie afberhend, these are the fees that I always charge 
a swell that must have his lib-ken to himsell — Thirty shiUings 
a-week for lodgings, and a guinea for garnish; half-a-guinea 
a-week for a single bed, and I dinna get the whole of it, for I 
must gie half-a-crown out of it to Donald Laider that's in for 
sheep-stealing, that should sleep with you by rule, and he'll 
expect clean strae, and maybe some whisky beside. So I make 
little upon that." 

" Well, sir, go on." 

" Then for meat and liquor, ye may have the best, and I 
never charge abune twenty per cent ower tavern price for 
pleasing a gentleman that way — and that's little eneugh for 
sending in and sending out, and wearing the lassie's shoon out. 
And then if ye're dowie, I will sit wi' you a gliff in the evening 
mysell, man, and help ye out wi* your bottle ; — ^I have drank 
mony a glass wi' Glossin, man, that did you up, though he's a 
Justice now. And then I'se warrant ye'll be for fire thir cauld 
nights, or if ye want candle, that's an expensive article, for it's 
against the rules. And now I've tell'd ye the head articles of 
the charge, and I dinna think there's muckle mair, though 
there will aye be some odd expenses ower and abune." 

"Well, sir, I must trust to your conscience, if ever you 
happened to hear of such a thing — I cannot help myself." 

" Na, na, sir," answered the cautious jailor, " I'll no permit 
you to be saying that — I'm forcing naething upon ye ; — an ye 
dinna like the price, ye needna take the article — I force no 
man ; I was only explaining what civility was : but if ye like 
to take the common run of the house, it's a' ane to me — ^I'll be 
saved trouble, that's a'." 

" Nay, my friend, I have, as I suppose you may easily guess, 
no inclination to dispute your terms upon such a penalty," 
answered Bertram. " Come, show me where I am to be, for I 
would fain be alone for a little whila" 



GUY MANNERING. 319 

" Ay, ay, come along then. Captain," said the fellow, with a 
contortion of visage which he intended to be a smile. " And 
I'll tell you now, — ^to show you that I ha/ve a conscience, as ye 
ca't, d — ^n me if I charge ye abune sixpence a-day for the free- 
dom o' the court, and ye may walk in't very near three hours 
a-day, and play at pitch-and-toss, and handba', and what not." 

With this gracious promise, he ushered Bertram into the 
house, and showed him up a steep and narrow stone staircase, 
at the top of which was a strong door, clenched with iron and 
studded with nails. Beyond this door was a narrow passage or 
gallery, having three ceUs on each side, wretched vaults, with 
iron bed-frames and straw mattresses. But at the farther end 
was a small apartment, of rather a more decent appearance,—^ 
that is, having less the air of a place of confinement, since, 
unless for the large lock and chain upon the door, and the crossed 
and ponderous stanchions upon the window, it rather resembled 
the " worst inn's worst room." It was designed as a sort of 
infirmary for prisoners whose state of health required some 
indulgence ; and, in fact, Donald . Laider, Bertram's destined 
chum, had been just dragged out of one of the two beds which 
it contained, to try whether clean straw and whisky might not 
have a better chance to cure his intermitting fever. This 
process of ejection had been carried into force by Mrs. Mac- 
Guffog while her husband parleyed with Bertram in the court- 
yard, that good lady having a distinct presentiment of the 
manner in which the treaty must necessarily terminate. Ap- 
parently the expulsion had not taken place without some 
application of the strong hand, for one of the bed-posts of a 
sort of tent-bed was broken down, so that the tester and curtains 
hung forward into the middle of the narrow chamber, like the 
banner of a chieftain, half sinking amid the confusion of a 
combat. 

"Never mind that being out o' sorts. Captain," said Mrs. 
Mac-Guffbg, who now followed them into the room ; then turning 
her back to the prisoner, with as much delicacy as the action 
admitted, she whipped from her knee her ferret garter, and 
applied it to splicing and fastening the broken bed-post— then 
used more pins than her apparel could well spare to fasten up 
the bed-curtains in festoons — then shook the bed-clothes into 
something like form — then flung over all a tattered patch-work 
quilt, and pronounced that things ware now ''sometbii^g pizr* 



320 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

pose-like." "And there's your bed, Captain," pointing to a 
massy four-posted hulk, which, owing to the inequality of the 
floor, that had sunk considerably (the house, though new, 
having been built by contract), stood on three legs, and held 
the fourth aloft as if pawing the air, and in the attitude of 
advancing like an elephant passant upon the panel of a coach 
— " There's your bed and the blankets ; but if ye want sheets, 
or -bowster, or pillow, or ony sort o* napery for the table, or 
for your hands, ye'll hae to speak to me about it, for that's out 
o' the gudeman's line " (Mac-Guffog had by this time left the 
room, to avoid, probably, any appeal which might be made to 
him upon this new exaction), " and he never engages for ony- 
thing like that." 

" In God's name," said Bertram, " let me have what is decent, 
and make any charge you please." 

" Aweel, aweel, that's sune settled ; we'll no excise you neither, 
though we live sae near the Custom-house. And I maun see 
to get you some fire and some dinner too, I'se warrant ; but 
your dinner will be but a puir ane the day, no expecting com- 
pany that would be nice and fashions." — So saying, and in all 
haste, Mrs. Mac-Guffog fetched a scuttle of live coals, and having 
replenished " the rusty grate, unconscious of a fire " for months 
before, she proceeded with unwashed hands to arrange thb 
stipulated bed-linen (alas, how different from Ailie Dinmont's !) 
and, muttering to herself as she discharged her task, seemed, 
in inveterate spleen of temper, to grudge even those accommo- 
dations for which she was to receive payment. At length, 
however, she departed, grumbling between her teeth, that " she 
wad rather lock up a haill ward than be fiking about thae niff- 
naffy gentles that gae sae muckle fash wi' their fancies." 

When she was gone, Bertram found himself reduced to the 
alternative of pacing his little apartment for exercise, or gazing 
out upon the sea in such proportions as could be seen from the 
narrow panes of his window, obscured by dirt and by close iron- 
bars, or reading over the records of brutal wit and blackguardism 
which despair had scrawled upon the half-whitened walls. The 
sounds were as uncomfortable as the objects of sight ; the sullen 
dash of the tide, which waa now retreating, and the occasional 
opening and shutting of a door, with all its accompaniments of 
jarring bolts and creaking hinges, mingling occasionally with 
the dull monotony of the retiring ocean. Sometimes too, h« 



GUY MANNERING. 321 

could hear the hoaxse growl of the keeper, or the shriller strain 
of his helpmate, almost always in the tone of discontent, anger, 
or insolence. At other times the large mastiff, chained in the 
court-yard, answered with furious bark the insults of the idle 
loiterers who made a sport of incensing him. 

At length the tedium of this weary space was broken by the 
entrance of a dirty-looking serving wench, who made some pre- 
parations for dinner by laying a half-dirty cloth upon a whole- 
dirty deal table. A knife and fork, which had not been worn out 
by overcleaning, flanked a cracked delf-plate; a nearly-empty 
mustard-pot placed on one side of the table, balanced a salt- 
cellar, containing an article of a greyish, or rather a blackish 
mixture, upon the other, both of stone-ware, and bearing too 
obvious marks of recent service. Shortly after, the same Hebe 
brought up a plate of beef-collops, done in the frying-pan, with 
a huge allowance of greajse floating in an ocean of lukewarm 
water ; and having added a coarse loaf to these savoury viands, 
she requested to know what liquors the gentleman chose to 
order. The appearance of this fare was not very inviting ; but 
Bertami endeavoured to mend his oommons by ordering wine, 
which he found tolerably good, and, with the assistance of some 
indifferent cheese, made his dinner chiefly off the brown loaf. 
When his meal was over, the girl presented her master's com- 
pliments, and, if agreeable to the gentleman, he would help him 
to spend the evening. Bertram desired to be excused, and 
begged, instead of this gracious society, that he might be 
furnished with paper, pen, ink, and candles. The light appeared 
in the shape of one long broken tallow-candle, inclining over 
a tin candlestick coated with grease ; as for the writing materials, 
the prisoner was informed that he might have them the next 
day if he chose to send out to buy them. Bertram next desired 
the maid to procure him a book, and enforced his request with 
a shilling ; in consequence of which, after long absence, she re- 
appeared with two odd volumes of the Newgate Calendar, 
which she had borrowed from Sam Silverquill, an idle apprentice, 
who was imprisoned under a charge of forgery. Having laid 
the books on the table, she retired, and left Bertram to studies 
which were not ill adapted to his present melancholy situatioiL 



VOL. II 



322 WAVBRIiBY NOVELS. 



CHAPTER FORTY-FIFTH. 

But if thou shouldst be dragged in aooxiL 

To yonder ignominious tree, 
Thou shaU not want one faithful friend 

To share the cruel fate's decree. 

Shenstone. 

Plunoed in the gloomy reflections which were naturally excited 
by his dismal reading and disconsolate situation, Bertram, for 
the first time in his life, felt himself affected with a disposition 
to low spirits. " I have been in worse situations than this too," 
he said ; — " more dangerous, for here is no danger — ^more dismal 
in prospect, for my present confinement must necessarily be 
short — ^more intolerable for the time, for here at least I have 
fire, food, and shelter. Yet with reading these bloody tales of 
crime and misery, in a place so corresponding to the ideas which 
they excite, and in listening to these sad soimds, I feel a stronger 
disposition to melancholy than in my life I ever experienced. 
But I will not give way to it — B^one, thou record of guilt and 
infamy!" he said, flinging the book upon the spare bed; **a 
Scottish jail shall not break, on the very first day, the spirits 
which have resisted climate, and want, and penury, and disease, 
and imprisonment, in a foreign land. I have fought many a 
hard battle with dame Fortune, and she shall not beat me now 
if I can help it." 

Then bending his mind to a strong effort, he endeavoured to 
view his situation in the most favourable light. Delaserre must 
soon be in Scotland ; the certificates from his commanding- 
oflficer must soon arrive ; nay, if Mannering were first applied 
to, who could say but the effect might be a reconciliation between 
them? He had often observed, and now remembered, that 
when his former colonel took the part of any one, it was never 
by halves, and that he seemed to love those persons most who 
had lain imder obligation to him. In the present case, a favour, 
which could be asked with honour and granted with readiness, 
might be the means of reconciling them to each other. From 
this his feelings naturally turned towards Julia ; and without 
very nicely measuring the distance between a soldier of fortime, 
who expected that her father's attestation would deliver hira 



GUY MANNERING. 823 

from confinement, and the heiress of that father's wealth and 
expectations, he was building the gayest castle in the clouds, 
and varnishing it with all the tints of a summer-evening sky, 
when his labour was interrupted by a loud knocking at the 
outer-gate, answered by the barking of the gaunt half-«tarved 
mastiff which was quartered in the court-yard as an addition to 
the garrison. After much scrupulous precaution the gate was 
opened, and some person admitted. The house-door was next 
unbarred, unlocked, and unchained, a dog's feet pattered upstairs 
in great haste, and the animal was heard scratching and whining 
at the door of the room. Next a heavy step was heard lumber- 
ing up, and Mao-Guffog*s voice in the character of pilot — " Tlys 
way, this way; take care of the step; — ^that's the room." — 
Bertram's door was then unbolted, and to his great surprise and 
joy, his terrier Wasp rushed into the apartment, and almost 
devoured him with caresses, followed by the massy form of his 
friend from Oharlies-hope. 

"Eh whow! Eh whow!" ejaculated the honest farmer, as 
he looked round upon his friend's miserable apartment and 
wretched accommodation — " What's this o't ! what's this o't !" 

"Just a trick of fortune, my good friend," said Bertram, 
rising and shaking him heartily by the hand, " that's all." 

"But what will be done about it? — or what can be done 
about it 1" said honest Dandie : " is't for debt, or what is't for ?" 

" Why, it is not for debt," answered Bertram ; " and if you 
have time to sit down, I'll tell you all I know of the matter 
myself." 

" If I hae time ?" said Dandie, with an accent on the word 
that sounded like a howl of derision — " Ou, what the deevil am 
I come here for, man, but just ance errand to see about it? 
But ye'll no be the waur o' something to eat, I trow ; — it's 
getting late at e'en — I teU'd the folk at the Change, where I 
put up Dumple, to send ower my supper here, and the chield 
Mac-Guffog is agreeable to let it in — I hae settled a' that. — 
And now let's hear your story — ^Whisht, Wasp, man ! wow but 
he's glad to see you, poor thing !" 

Bertram's story being confined to the accident of Hazlewood, 
and the confrision made between his own identity and that of 
one of the smugglers who had been active in the assault of 
Woodboume, and chanced to bear the same name, was soon 
told. Dinmont listened very attentively. "Awed," he said. 



824 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

" thiA suld be nae sic dooms-desperate business surely — ^the lad's 
doing weel a^ain that was hurt, and what signifies two or 
three lead draps in his shouther ? if ye had putten out his ee it 
would hae been another casa But eh, as I wuss auld Sherra 
Pleydell was to the fore here . — Od, he was the man for sort- 
ing them, and the queerest rough-spoken deevil too that ever 
ye heard !" 

" But now tell me, my excellent friend, how did you find out 
I was here 1" 

" Od, lad, queerly enough," said Dandie ; " but I'll tell ye 
that after we are done wi* our supper, for it will maybe no be 
sae weel to speak about it while that lang-lugged linmier o' a 
lass is gaun flisking in and out o' the room." 

Bertram's curiosity was in some degree put to rest by the 
appearance of the supper which his friend had ordered, which 
although homely enough, had the appetizing cleanliness in 
which Mrs. Mac-Guffog*s cookery waa so eminently deficient. 
Dinmont also, premising he had ridden the whole day since 
breakfast-time without tasting anything " to speak of," which 
qualifying phrafie related to about three pounds of cold roast 
mutton which he had discussed at his mid-day stage — Dinmont, 
I say, fell stoutly upon the good cheer, and, like one of Homer's 
heroes, said little, either good or bad, till the rage of thirst and 
hunger was appeased. At length, after a draught of home- 
brewed ale, he began by observing, " Aweel, aweel, that hen," 
looking upon the lamentable relics of what had been once a 
large fowl, " wasna a bad ane to be bred at a town end, though 
it's no like our barn-door chuckles at Charlies-hope — ^and I am 
glad to see that this vexing job hasna taen awa your appetite, 
Captain." 

" Why really, my dinner was not so excellent, Mr. Dinmont, 
as to spoil my supper." 

" I daur say no — I daur say no," said Dandie. — " But now, 
hinny, that ye hae brought us the brandy, and the mug wi' 
the het water, and the sugar, and a' right, ye may steek the 
door, ye see, for we wad hae some o' our ain cracks." The 
damsel accordingly retired, and shut the door of the apartment, 
to which she added the precaution of drawing a large bolt on 
the outside. 

As soon as she was gone, Dandie reconnoitred the premiBes, 
listened at the key-hole as if he had been listening for the 



GUY MANNERING. 326 

blowing of an otter, — ^and haying satisfied himself that there 
were no eavesdroppers, returned to the table; and maMng 
himself what he called a gey stiff cheerer, poked the fire, and 
began his story in an under tone of gravity and importance not 
very usual with him. 

" Ye see, Captain, I had been in Edinbro' for twa or three 
days, looking after the burial of a friend that we hae lost, and 
maybe I suld hae had something for my ride ; but there's dis- 
appointments in a' things, and wha can help the like o' that ? 
And I had a wee bit law business besides, but that's neither 
here nor there. In short, I had got my matters settled, and hame 
I cam ; and the mom awa to the muirs to see what the herds 
had been about, and I thought I might as weel gie a look to 
the Tout-hope head, where Jock o' Dawston and me has the 
outcast about a march. Weel, just as I was coming upon the 
bit, I saw a man afore me that I kenn'd was nane o' our herds, 
and it's a wild bit to meet ony other body, so when I cam up 
to him, it was Tod Gabriel the fox-hunter. So I says to him, 
rather surprised like, ^ What are ye doing up amang the craws 
here, without your hounds, man 1 are ye seeking the fox with- 
out the dogs V So he said, ' Na, gudeman, but I wanted to 
see yoursell.' 

" * Ay,' said I, ' and ye'll be wanting eliding now, or some- 
thing to pit ower the winter?' 

" * Na, na,' quo' he, * it's no that I'm seeking ; but ye tak an 
unco concern la that Captain Brown that was staying wi' you, 
d'ye no ?' - 

" * Troth do I, Gabriel,' says I ; ' and what about him, lad V 

" Says he, * There's mair tak an interest in him than you, 
and some that I am bound to obey ; and it's no just on my ain 
will that I'm here to teU you something about him that wiU no 
please you.' 

" * Faith, naething will please me,' quo' I, ' that's no pleasing 
to him.' 

" * And then,' quo' he, ^ ye'll be iU-sorted to hear that he's like 
to be in the prison at Portanferry, if he disna tak a' the better 
care o' himseU, for there's been warrants out to tak him as soon 
as he comes ower the water frae Allonby. And now, gudeman, 
an ever ye wish him weel, ye maun ride down to Portanferry, 
and let nae grass grow at the nag's heels ; and if ye find him 
in confinement, ye maun stay beside him night and day, for a 



326 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

day or twa, for he'll want Mends that hae baith heart and 
hand ; and if ye neglect this, ye'll never rue' but ance, for it will 
be for a' your life.' 

" * But, safe us, man,' quo' I, * how did ye learn a' this 1 — ^it's 
an unco way between this and Portanferry.' 

" * Never ye mind that,* quo' he ; * them that brought us the 
news rade night and day, and ye maun be aff instantly if ye 
wad do ony gude — ^and sae I have naething mair to tell ye.' Sae 
he sat himsell doun and hirseUed doun into the glen, where it 
wad hae been ill following him wi' the beast, and I cam back to 
Oharlies-hope to teU the gudewife, for I was uncertain what to 
do. It wad look unco-like, I thought, just to be sent out on a 
hunt-the-gowk errand wi' a land-louper like that. But, Lord 1 
as the gudewife set up her throat about it, and said what a 
shame it wad be if ye was to come to ony wrang, an I could 
help ye ; — and then in cam your letter that confirmed it. So I 
took to the kist, and out wi' the pickle notes in case they should 
be needed, and a' the bairns ran to saddle Dumple. By great 
luck I had taen the other beast to Edinbro,' sae Dumple was as 
fresh as a rose. Sae aff I set, a^d Wasp wi' me, for ye wad 
really hae thought he kenn'd where I was gaun, puir beast ; 
and here I am after a trot o' sixty mile, or near by. But Wasp 
rade thirty o' them afore me on the saddle, and the puir doggie 
balanced itseU as ane of the weans wad hae dune, whether I 
trotted or cantered." 

In this strange story Bertram obviously saw, supposing the 
warning to be true, some intimation of danger more violent and 
imminent than could be likely to arise from a few days' im- 
prisonment. At the same time it was equally evident that 
some unknown friend was working in his behalf. '' Did you 
not say," he asked Dinmont, ^' that this man Gabriel was of 
gipsy blood 1" 

'^ It was e'en judged sae," said Dinmont, " and I think this 
maks it likely ; for they aye ken where the gangs o' ilk ither 
are to be found, and they can gar news flee like a foot-ba' 
through the country an they like. An' I forgat to tell ye, 
there's been an imco inquiry after the auld wife that we saw in 
Bewcastle ; the sheriff's had folk ower the Limestane Edge after 
her, and down the Hermitage and Liddel, and a' gates, and a 
reward offered for her to appear, o' fifty pounds sterling, nae 
less ; and Justice Forster, he's had out warrants, as I am tell'd, 



GUY MANNEBING. 327 

in Cumberland, and an unoo ranging and nping they have had 
a' gates seeking for her — ^but she'll no be taen wi' them unless 
she likes, for a' that." 

'' And how comes that 1" said Bertram. 

'^ Ou, I dinna ken ; I daur say it's nonsense, but they say 
she has gathered the fern-seed, and can gang ony gate she likes, 
like Jock-the-Giant-Mller in the baUant, wi' his coat o' darkness 
and his shoon o' swiftness. Ony way she's a kind o' queen amang 
the gipsies; she is mair than a hundred year auld, folk say, 
and minds the coming in o' the moss-troopers in the trouble- 
some times when the Stuarts were put awa. Sae, if she canna 
hide hersell, she kens them that can hide her weel enough, ye 
needna doubt that. Od, an I had kenn'd it had been Meg 
Merrilies yon night at Tibb Mumps's, I wad taen care how I 
crossed her." 

Bertram listened with great attention to this account, which 
tallied so well in many points with what he had himself seen 
of this gipsy sibyL After a moment's consideration, he con- 
cluded it would be no breach of faith to mention what he had 
seen at Demdeugh to a person who held Meg in such reverence 
as Dinmont obviously did. He told his story accordingly, often 
interrupted by ejaculations, such as, " Weel the like o' that 
now !" or, " Na, deil an that's no something now !" 

When our Liddesdale friend had heard the whole to an end, 
he shook his great black head — "Weel, I'll uphaud there's 
baith gude and ill amang the gipsies, and if they deal wi' the 
Enemy, it's a' their ain business, and no ours. I ken what the 
streeldng the corpse wad be, weel eneugh. Thae smuggler 
deevils, when ony o' them's killed in a fray, they'll send for a 
wife like Meg far eneugh to dress the corpse — od, it's a' the 
burial they ever think o' ! and then to be put into the ground 
without ony decency, just like dogs. But they stick to it that 
they'll be streekit, and hae an auld wife when they're dying, to 
rhyme ower prayers, and baUants, and charms, as they ca' them, 
rather than they'll hae a minister to come and pray wi' them 
— ^that's an auld threep o' theirs ; and I am thinking the man 
that died will hae been ane o' the folk that was shot when they 
burnt Woodboume." 

"But, my good friend, Woodboume is not burnt," said 
Bertram. 

"Weel, the better for them that bides in't" — answered the 



328 WAVERLBY NOVELS. 

store-farmer, " Od, we had it up the water wi' u», that there 
wasna a stane on the tap o' anither. But there was fighting, 
ony way ; I daur to say, it would be fine fan ! And, as I said, 
ye may take it on trust, that that's been ane o' the men killed 
there, and that it's been the gipsies thai; took your pockmanky 
when they fand the chaise stickin' in the snaw — ^they wadna 
pass the like o' that — ^it wad just come to their hand like the 
bowl o' a pint stoup."* 

** But if this woman is a sovereign among them, why was 
she not able to afford me open protection, and to get me back 
my property?" 

" Ou, wha kens 1 she has muckle to say wi' them, but whiles 
they'll tak their ain way for a' that, when they're under 
temptation. And then there's the smugglers that the3r're aye 
leagued wi' ; she maybe couldna manage them sae weel — they're 
aye banded thegither. I've heard that the gipsies ken when 
the smugglers will come aff, and where they're to land, better 
than the very merchants that deal wi' them. And then, to the 
boot o' that, she's whiles crack-brained, and has a bee in her 
head ; they say that whether her spaeings and fortune-tellings 
be true or no, for certain she believes in them a' hersell, and is 
aye guiding hersell by some queer prophecy or anither. So she 
disna aye gang the straight road to the welL — But deil o' sic a 
story as yours, wi' glamour and dead folk and losing ane's gate, 
I ever heard out o' the tale books ! — But whisht, I hear the 
keeper coming." 

Mac-Guffog accordingly interrupted their discourse by the 
harsh harmony of the bolts and bars, and showed his bloated 
visage at the opening door. "Come, Mr. Dinmont, we have 
put off locking up for an hour to oblige ye ; ye must go to your 
quarters." 

" Quarters, man ? I intend to sleep here the night. There's 
a spare bed in the Captain's room." 

" It's impossible !" answered the keeper. 

" But I say it is possible, and that I winna stir — and there's 
a dram t'ye." 

Mac-Guffog drank off the spirits, and resiuned his objection. 
" But it's against rule, sir ; ye have committed nae malefaction." 

" I'll break your head," said the sturdy Liddesdale man, " if 

* The handle of a stoup of liquor ; than which, our proverb seems to 
infer, there is nothing comes more readily to the grasp. 



GUT MANNEBING. 329 

ye say ony mair about it, and that will be malefaction eneugh 
to entitle me to ae night's lodging wi* you, ony way." 

" But I tell ye, Mr. Drnmont," reiterated the keeper, " it's 
against rule, and I behoved to lose my post.'' 

" Wed, Mac-Goiffog," said Dandie, " I hae just twa things 
to say. Ye ken wha I am weel eneugh, and that I wadna loose 
a prisoner." 

" And how do I ken that 1" answered the jailor. 

" Weel, if ye dinna ken that, said the resolute farmer, " ye 
ken this ; — ^ye ken ye're whiles obliged to be up our water in 
the way o' your business ; now, if ye let me stay quietly here 
the night wi' the Captain, I'se pay ye double fees for the room ; 
and if ye say no, ye shall hae the best sark-fu' o' sair banes 
that ever ye had in your life, the first time ye set a foot by 
Liddel-moat !" 

"Aweel, aweel, gudeman," said Mac-GuflPbg, "a wilfu' man 
maun hae his way ; but if I am challenged for it by the justices, I 
ken wha sail bear the wyte ;" and having sealed this observation 
with a deep oath or two, he retired to bed, after carefully 
securing aU the doors of the Bridewell. The beU from the 
town steeple tolled nine just as the ceremony was concluded. 

" Although it's but early hours," said the farmer, who had 
observed that his friend looked somewhat pale and fatigued, 
" I think we had better lie down, Captain, if ye're no agreeable 
to another cheerer. But troth, ye're nae glass-breaker; and 
neither am I, unless it be a screed wi' the neighbours, or when 
I'm on a ramble." 

Bertram readily assented to the motion of his faithful friend, 
but, looking on at the bed, felt repugnance to trust himself 
undressed to Mrs. Mac-Guflfbg's dean sheets. 

" I'm muckle o' your opinion. Captain," said Dandie. " Od, 
this bed looks as if a' the colliers in Sanquhar had been in't 
thegither. But itil no win through my muckle coat." So 
saying, he flung himself upon the frail bed with a force that 
made aU its timbers crack, and in a few moments gave audible 
signal that he was fast asleep. Bertram slipped off his coat 
and boots, and occupied the other dormitory. The strangeness 
of his destiny, and the mysteries which appeared to thicken 
around him, while he seemed alike to be persecuted and protected 
by secret enemies and friends, arising out of a class of people 
with whom be had no previous connection, for some time 



330 WAVEKLEY NOVELS. 

occupied his thoughts. Fatigue, however, gradually composed 
his mind, and in a short time he was as fast asleep as his 
companion. And in this comfortable state of oblivion we must 
leave them, imtil we acquaint . the reader with some other 
circumstances which occurred about the same period. 



CHAPTER FORTY-SIXTH. 



Say from whence 



Ton owe this strange intelligence I or why 
Upon this blasted heath yon stop our way 
"With such prophetic greeting ? — 
Speak, I chaise yon. 

Macbeth. 

Upon the evening of the day when Bertram's examination 
had taken place, Colonel Mannering arrived at Woodboume 
from Edinburgh. He found his fanuly in their usual state, 
which probably, so far as Julia was concerned, would not have 
been the case had she learned the news of Bertram's arrest. 
But as, during the Colonel's absence, the two young ladies lived 
much retired, this circumstance fortunately had not reached 
Woodboume. A letter had already made Miss Bertram 
acquainted with the downfall of the expectlEitions which had 
been formed upon the bequest of her kinswoman. Whatever 
hopes that news might have dispelled, the disappointment did 
not prevent her from joining her friend in afifbrding a cheerful 
reception to the Colonel, to whom she thus endeavoured to 
express the deep sense she entertained of his paternal kindness. 
She touched on her regret, that at such a season of the year he 
should have made, upon her account, a journey so fruitless. 

" That it was fruitless to you, my dear," said the Colonel, 
" I do most deeply lament ; but for my own share, I have made 
some valuable acquaintances, and have spent the time I have 
been absent in Edinburgh with peculiar satisfaction ; so that, 
on that score, there is nothing to be regretted. Even our friend 
the Dominie is returned thrice the man he was, from having 
sharpened his wits in controversy with the geniuses of the 
northern metropolis." 

'^ Of a surety," said the Dominie, with great complacency, 



GUY MANNERING. 331 

** I did wrestle, and was not overcome, though my adversary 
was cunning in his art.'' 

" I presume," said Miss Mannering, " the contest was some- 
what ^tiguing, Mr. Sampson?" 

"Very much, young lady — ^howbeit, I girded up my loins 
and strove against him." 

"I can bear witness," said the Colonel, "I never saw an 
affair better contested. The enemy was like the Mahratta 
cavalry ; he assailed on all sides, and presented no fair mark 
for artniery; but Mr. Sampson stood to his guns, notwith- 
standing, and fired away, now upon the enemy, and now upon 
the dust which he had raised. But we must not fight our 
battles over again to-night — ^to-morrow we shall have the whole 
at breakfast." 

The next morning at breakfast, however, the Dominie did 
not make his appearance. He had walked out, a servant said, 
early in the morning ;— it was so common for him to forget his 
meals, that his absence never deranged the family. The house- 
keeper, a decent old-fashioned Presbyterian matron, having, as 
such, the highest respect for Sampson's theological acquisitions, 
had it in charge on these occasions to take care that he was no 
sufferer by his absence of mind, and therefore usually waylaid 
him on hiB return, to remind him of his sublunary wants, and 
to minister to their relief. It seldom, however, happened that 
he was absent from two meals together, as was the case in the 
present instance. We must explain the cause of this unusual 
occurrence. 

The conversation which Mr. Pleydell had held with Mr. 
Mannering on the subject of the loss of Harry Bertram, had 
awakened all the painfiil sensations which that event had 
inflicted upon Sampson. The affectionate heart of the poor 
Dominie had always reproached him, that his negligence in 
leaving the child in the care of Frank Kennedy had been the 
proximate cause of the murder of the one, the loss of the other, 
the death of Mrs. Bertram, and the ruin of the family of his 
patron. It was a subject which he never conversed upon,— if 
indeed his mode of speech could be called conversation at any 
time,— but it was often present to his imagination. The sort 
of hope so strongly affirmed and asserted in Mrs. Bertram's 
last settlement, had excited a corresponding feeling in the 
Dominie's bosom, which was exasperated into a sort of sicken- 



332 WAVEKLEY NOVELS. 

ing anxiety, by the discredit with which Pleydell had treated 
it. — " Assuredly," thought Sampson -to himself, "he is a man 
of erudition, and well skilled in the weighty matters of the 
law ; but he is also a man of humorous levity and inconsistency 
of speech ; and wherefore should he pronounce ex cathedra, as 
it were, on the hope expressed by worthy Madam Margaret 
Bertram of Singlesidel" 

All this, I say, the Dominie thought to himself; for had he 
uttered half the sentences, his jaws would have ached for a 
month under the unusual fatigue of such a continued exertion. 
The result of these cogitations was a resolution to go and visit 
the scene of the tragedy at Warroch Point, where he had not 
been for many years — not, indeed, since the fatal accident 
had happened. The walk was a long one, for the Point of 
Warroch lay on the farther side Of the EUangowan property, 
which was interposed between it and Woodboume. Besides, 
the Dominie went astray more than once, and met with 
brooks swollen into torrents by the melting of the snow, where 
he, honest man, had only the summer-recollection of little 
trickling rills. 

At length, however, he reached the woods which he had 
made the object of his excursion, and traversed them with care, 
muddling his disturbed brains with vague efforts to recall eveiy 
circumstance of the catastrophe. It will readily be supposed 
that the influence of local situation and association was inade- 
quate to produce conclusions different from those which he 
had formed under the immediate pressure of the occurrences 
themselves. " With many a weary sigh, therefore, and many 
a groan," the poor Dominie returned from his hopeless pil- 
grimage, and weariedly plodded his way towards Woodboume, 
debating at times in his altered mind a question which was 
forced upon him by the cravings of an appetite rather of the 
keenest, namely, whether he had breakfasted that morning or 
no 1 — ^It was in this twilight humour, now thinking of the loss 
of the child then involuntarily compelled to meditate upon the 
somewhat incongruous subject of hung-beef, roUs, and butter, 
that Ids route, which was different from that which he had 
taken in the morning, conducted him past the small ruined 
tower, or rather vestige of a tower, called by the coimtry people 
the Kaim of Demdeugh. 

The reader may recoUect the description of this rain in the 



OUY MANNERING. 333 

iwenty-seventh chapter of this narrative, as the vault in which 
young Bertram, under the auspices of Meg Merrilies, witnessed 
the death of Hatteraick's lieutenant. The tradition of the 
country added ghostly terrors to the natural awe inspired by 
the situation of this place — which terrors the gipsies, who 
so long inhabited the vicinity, had probably invented, or at 
least propagated, for their own advantage. It was said, that 
during the times of the Galwegian independence, one Hanlon 
Mac-Dingawaie, brother to the reigning chief, Knarth Mao- 
Dingawaie, murdered his brother and sovereign, in order to 
usurp the principality from his infant nephew, and that being 
pursued for vengeance by the faithful allies and retainers of 
the house, who espoused the cause of the lawful heir, he was 
compelled to retreat with a few followers whom he had involved 
in his crime, to this impregnable tower called the Kaim of 
Demcleugh, where he defended himself until nearly reduced 
by famine, when, setting fire to the place, he and the small 
remaining garrison desperately perished by their own swords, 
rather than fall into the hands of their exasperated enemies. 
This tragedy, which, considering the wild times wherein it was 
placed, might have some foundation in truth, was larded with 
many legends of superstition and diablerie, so that most of 
the peasants of the neighbourhood, if benighted, would rather 
have chosen to make a considerable circuit, than pass these 
haunted walls. The lights, often seen around the tower when 
used as the rendezvous of the lawless characters by whom 
it was occasionally frequented, were accounted for, under 
authority of these tales of witcheiy, in a manner at once con- 
venient for the private parties concerned, and satisfactory to 
the public. 

Now it must be confessed that our friend Sampson, although 
a profound scholar and mathematician, had not travelled so far 
in philosophy as to doubt the reality of witchcraft or apparitions. 
Bom indeed at a time when a doubt in the existence of witches 
was interpreted as equivalent to a justification of their infernal 
practices, a belief of such legends had been impressed upon the 
Dominie as an article indivisible from his religious faith ; and 
perhaps it would have been equally difficult to have induced 
him to doubt the one as the othei. With these feelings, and 
in a thick misty day, which was already drawing to its close, 
Dominie Sampson did not pass the Kaim of Demcleugh without 
some feelings of tacit horror. 



334 WAVBRLEY NOVELS. 

What, then, waa his astonishment, when, on passing the 
door — ^that door which was supposed to have been placed there 
by one of the latter Lairds of Ellangowan to prevent pre* 
sumptuous strangers from incurring the dangers of the haunted 
7ault — that door, supposed to be always locked, and the key 
of which was popularly said to be deposited with the pres- 
bytery — ^that door, that very door, opened suddenly, and the 
figure of Meg Merrilies, well known, though not seen for many 
a revolving year, waa placed at once before the eyes of the 
startled Dominie ! She stood immediately before hha in the 
footpath, confronting him so absolutely, that he could not avoid 
her except by fairly turning back, which his manhood prevented 
him from thinking off. 

" I kenn'd ye wad be here," she said, with her harsh and 
hollow voice: "I ken wha ye seek; but ye maun do my 
bidding." 

" Get thee behind me !" said the alarmed Dominie — "Avoid 
ye ! — CoTijuro fe, scelesUssima — viequissima — spv/rcissvma — miquis- 
sima — atque ndserrvma — conjwro te! ! .'" — 

Meg stood her ground against this tremendous volley of 
superlatives, which Sampson hawked up from the pit of his 
stomach, and hurled at her in thunder. " Is the carl daft," 
she said, " wi' his glamour ?" 

"Oow/wro," continued the Dominie, "oijtwo, contestoTy atque 
vvriliter impero tibi .'" — 

" What, in the name of Sathan, are ye feared for, wi' your 
French gibberish, that would make a dog sickl Listen, ye 
stickit stibbler, to what I tell ye, or ye sail rue it while there's 
a limb o' ye hings to anither ! Tell Colonel Mannering that I 
ken he's seeking me. He kens, and I ken, that the blood will 
be wiped out, and the lost will be found, 

And Bertram's right and Bertram's might 
Shall meet on Ellangowan height 

V Hae, there's a letter to him ; T was gaun to send it in another 
way. — ^I canna write mysell ; but I hae them that will baith 
write and read, and ride and rin for me. Tell him the time's 
coming no^ and the weird's dreed, and the wheel's turning. 
Bid him look at the stars as he has looked at them before. — 
Wm ye mind a' this r' 

" Assuredly," said the Dominie, " I am dubious — ^for, woman, 



GUY MANNERING. 336 

I am perturbed at thy words, and my flesh quakes to hear 
thee." 

" They'll do you nae ill though, and maybe muckle gude." 

" Avoid ye! I desire no good that comes by unlawful means." 

"Fule-body that thou art!" said Meg, stepping up to him 
with a frown of indignation that made her dark eyes flash like 
lamps from under her bent brows — " Fule-body ! if I meant ye 
wrang, couldna I clod ye ower that craig, and wad man ken 
how ye cam by your end mair than Frank Kennedy ? Hear ye 
that, ye worricowl" 

" In the name of all that is good," said the Dominie, recoil- 
ing, and pointing his long pewter-headed walking-cane like a 
javelin at the supposed sorceress, — '' in the name of aU that is 
good, bide off hands ! I will not be handled — ^woman, stand off, 
upon thine own proper peril ! — desist, I say — I am strong — lo, 
I will resist !" Here his speech was cut short ; for Meg, anned 
with supernatural strength (as the Dominie asserted), broke in 
upon his guard, put by a thrust which he made at her with his 
cane, and lifted him into the vault, " as easily," said he, " as I 
could sway a Kitchen's Atlas." 

" Sit down there," she said, pushing the half-throttled preacher 
with some violence against a broken chair — *^sit down there, 
and gather your wind and your senses, ye black barrow-tram o' 
the kirk that ye are ! — ^Are ye fou or fasting 1"" 

"Fasting — ^from all but sin," answered the Dominie, who, 
recovering his voice, and finding his exorcisms only served to 
exasperate the intractable sorceress, thought it best to affect 
complaisance and submission, inwardly conning over, however, 
the wholesome conjurations which he durst no longer utter 
aloud. But as the Dominie's brain was by no means equal to 
carry on two trains of ideas at the same time, a word or two of 
his mental exercise sometimes escaped, and mingled with l;Lis 
uttered speech in a manner ludicrous enough, especially as the 
poor man shrunk himself together after every escape of the 
kind, from terror of the effect it might produce upon the 
irritable feelings of the witch. 

Meg, in the meanwhile, went to a great black cauldron that 
was boiling on a fire on the floor, and Hfting the lid, an odour 
was diffused through the vault which, if the vapours of a witch's 
cauldron could in aught be trusted, promised better things than 
the hell-broth which such vessels are usually supposed to contain. 



336 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

It was Id fact the savour of a goodly stew, composed of fowls, 
hares, partridges, and moorgame, boiled in a large mess with 
potatoes, onions, and leeks, and from the size of the cauldron, 
appeared to be prepared for half-a-dozen of people at least. 

''So ye hae eat naething a' day V* said Meg, heaving a large 
portion of this mess into a brown dish, and strewing it savourily 
with salt and pepper.* 

" Nothing," answered the Dominie — " 9celestis9vma ! — ^that is 
— gudewife." 

" Hae, then," said she, placing the dish before him, " there's 
what will warm your heart." 

" I do not hunger — malefica — ^that is to say — Mrs. Merrilies 1" 
for he said unto himself, " the savour is sweet, but it hath been 
cooked by a Canidia or an Ericthoe." 

'' If ye dinna eat instantly, and put some saul in ye, by the 
bread and the salt, I'll put it down your throat wi' the cutty 
spoon, scaulding as it is, and whether ye will or no. Gape, 
sinner, and swallow I" 

Sampson, afraid of eye of newt, and toe of frog, tigere' 
chaudrons, and so forth, had determined not to venture ; but 
the smell of the stew was fast melting his obstinacy, which 
flowed £rom his chops, as it were, in streams of water, and the 
witch's threats decided him to feed. Hunger and fear are 
excellent casuists. 

" Saul," said Hunger, " feasted with the witch of Endor." — 
" And," quoth Fear, " the salt which she sprinkled upon the 
food showeth plainly it is not a necromantic banquet, in which 
that seasoning never occurs." — "And besides," says Hunger, 
after the first spoonful, " it is savoury and refreshing viands." 

" So ye like the meat?" said the hostess. 

" Yea," answered the Dominie, " and I give thee thanks — 
9celeratisivma ! — ^which means — ^Mrs. Margaret." 

" Aweel, eat your fill ; but an ye kenn'd how it was gotten, 
ye maybe wadna like it sae weeL" Sampson's spoon dropped 
in the act of conveying its load to his mouth. " There's been 
mony a moonlight watch to bring a' that trade thegither," 
continued Meg — " the folk that are to eat that dinner thought 
little o' your game-laws." 

*' Is that aU ?" thought Sampson, resuming his spoon, and 

* Note K. Gipsy Gookery. 



GUY MANNERING. 337 

shovelling away manfully ; " I will not lack my lood upon that 
argument." 

" Now, ye maun tak a dram." 

"I will," quoth Sampson — ^^conjuro te — that is, I thank 
you heartily," for he thought to himself, in for a penny in for a 
pound ; and he fairly drank the witch's health in a cupftd of 
brandy. When he had put this cope-stone upon Meg's good 
cheer, he felt, as he said, " mightily elevated, and afraid of no 
evil which could befall unto him." 

" Will ye remember my errand now ?" said Meg Merrilies ; 
" I ken by the cast oVyour ee that ye're anither man than when 
you cam in." 

" I will, Mrs. Margaret," repeated Sampson stoutly ; " I will 
deliver unto him the sealed yepistle, and will add what you 
please to send by word of mouth." 

" Then I'll make it short," says Meg. " Tell him to look at 
the stars without fail this night, and to do what I desire him 
in that letter, as he would wish 

That Bertram's right and Bertram's might 
Should meet on EUangowan height. 

I have seen him twice when he saw na me ; I ken when he was 
in this country first, and I ken what's brought him back again. 
Up, an' to the gate ! ye're ower lang here — ^foUow me." 

Sampson followed the sibyl accordingly, who guided him 
about a quarter of a mile through the woods, by a shorter cut 
than he could have found for himself; they then entered upon 
the common, Meg still marching before him at a great pace, until 
she gained the top of a small hillock which overhung the road. 

" Here," she said, " stand still here. Look how the getting 
sun breaks through yon cloud that's been darkening the lift a' 
day. See where the first stream o' light fa's — ^it's upon Dona- 
gild's round tower — ^the auldest tower in the Castle o' EUangowan 
— ^that's no for naething ! — See as it's glooming to seaward abune 
yon sloop in the bay — ^that's no for naething neither. -^Here I 
stood on this very spot," said she, drawing herself up so as not 
to lose, one hair-breadth of her uncommon height, and stretching 
out her long sinewy arm and clenched hand — "here I stood 
when I tauld the last Laird o' EUangowan what was coming on 
his house ; — ^aiid did that fa' to the groimd 1 Na — ^it hit even ' 
<'>wer sair ! And here, where I brake the wand of peace ower 
VOL. n '4 



338 WAVERLBY NOVELS. ^ 

him — ^here 1 staiid again — ^to bid God bless and prosper the just 
heir of EUangowan that will sune be brought to his ain ; and 
the best laird he shaU be that EUangowan has seen for three 
hundred years. I'll no live to see it, maybe ; but there wiQ be 
mony a blythe ee see it though mine be dosed. And now, Abel 
Sampson, as ever ye lo'ed the house of EUangowan, away wi* my 
message to the English Colonel, as if life and death were upon 
your haste 1" 

So saying, she turned suddenly from the amazed Dominie, 
and regained with swift and long strides the shelter of the 
wood from which she had issued, at the point where it most 
encroached upon the common: Sampson gazed after her 
for a moment in utter astonishment, and then obeyed her 
directions, hurrying to Woodbourne at a pace very unusual 
for him, exclaiming three times, " Prodigious ' prodigious ! 
pro4i-gi-ous 1" 



CHAPTER FORTY-SEVENTH. 



-It is not madness 



That I have uttered ; bring me to. the test, 
And I the matter wUl re-word ; which madness 
Would gambol from. 

Hamlet. 

As Mr. Sampson crossed the haU with a bewUdered look, Mrs. 
Allan, the good housekeeper, who, with the reverent attention 
which is usuaUy rendered to the dergy in Scotland, was on the 
watch for his return, saUied forth to meet him — " What's this 
o't now, Mr. Sampson ; this is waur than ever . — ^ye'U reaUy 
do yourself some injury wi' these lang fasts — ^naething*s sae 
hurtful to the stamach, Mr. Sampson ; — ^if ye would but put 
some pepperD;dnt draps in your pocket, or let Barnes cut ye a 
sandwich." 

"Avoid thee!" quoth the Dominie, his mind running still 
upon his interview with Meg MerriUes, and making for the 
dining-parlour. 

* " Na, ye needna gang in there — ^the cloth's been removed an 
boor syne, and the Colonel's at his wine ; but just step into 



GUY MANNEBING. 839 

my room — I have a nice steak that the cook will do in a 
moment." 

^^ Exordso teT* said Sampson, — "that is, I have dined." 

" Dined ! it's impossible — ^wha can ye hae dined wi', you that 
gangs out nae gate 1" 

" With Beelzebub, I believe," said the minister. 

" Na, then he's bewitched for certain," said the housekeeper, 
letting go her hold ; " he's bewitched, or he's daft, and ony way 
the Ck)lonel maun just guide him his ain gate. Wae's me ! 
Hech, sirs ! It's a sair thing to seeleaming bring folk to this ! " 
And with this compassionate ejaculation she retreated into her 
own premises. 

The object of her commiseration had by this time entered the 
dining-parlour, where his appearance gave great surprise. He 
was mud up to the shoulders, and the natural paleness of his 
hue was twice as cadaverous as usual, through terror, fatigue, 
and perturbation of mind. "What on earth is the meaning 
of this, Mr. Sampson?" said Mannering, who observed Miss 
Bertram looking much alarmed for her simple but attached 
friend. 

' " Exordso" — said the Dominia 

" How, sir?" replied the astonished Colonel 

" I crave pardon, honourable sir ! but my wits" — 

" Are gone a wool-gathering, I think. Pray, Mr. Sampson, 
collect yourself, and let me know the meaning of all this." 

Sampson was about to reply, but finding his l&tjja. fommla 
of exorcism still came most readily to his tongue, he prudently 
desisted from the attempt, and put the scrap of paper which he 
had received from the gipsy into Mannering's hand, who broke 
the seal and read it with surprise. " This seems to be some 
jest," he said, " and a very dull one." 

" It came from no jesting person," said Mr. Sampson. 

" From whom then did it come ?" demanded Mannering. 

The Dominie, who often displayed some delicacy of recollec- 
tion in cases where Miss Bertram had an interest, remembered 
the painful circumstances connected with Meg Merrilies, looked 
at the young ladies, and remained silent. "We wiU join you 
at the teartable in an instant, Julia," said the Colonel ; " I see 
that Mr. Sampson wishes to speak to me alone. — ^And now they 
are gone, what, in Heaven's name, Mr. Sampson^ is the meaning 
of all this r 



340 WAVEKLEY NOVELS. 

■ 

*^ It may be a messjSkge from Heaven/' said the Dominie, '* but 
it came by Beelzebub's postmistress. It was that witch, Meg 
Merrilies, who should have been burned with a tax-barrel twenty 
years since, for a harlot, thief, witch, and gipsy.** 

"Are you sure it was shef* said the Colonel with great 
interest. 

"Sure, honoured sir? Of a truth she is one not to be 
forgotten — ^the like o* Meg Merrilies is not to be seen in any 
land.** 

The Colonel paced the room rapidly, cogitating with himself. 
" To send out to apprehend her — ^but it is too distant to send 
to Mac-Morlan, and Sir Robert Hazlewood is a pompous cox- 
comb ; besides the chance of not finding her upon the spot, or 
that the humour of silence that seized her before may again 
return ; — ^no, I will not, to save being thought a fool, neglect 
the course she points out. Many of her class set out by being 
impostors, and end by becoming enthusiasts, or hold a kind of 
darkling conduct between both lines, unconscious almost wheir 
they are cheating themselves, or when imposing on others. 
Well, my course is a plain one at any rate ; and if my efforts 
ai*e fruitless, it shall not be owing to over-jealousy of my own 
character for wisdom.** 

With this he rang the bell, and ordering Barnes into his 
private sitting-room, gave him some orders, with the result of 
which the reader may be made hereafter acquainted. We must 
now take up another adventure, which is also to be woven into 
the story of this remarkable day. 

Charles Hazlewood had not ventured to make a visit at Wood- 
bourne during the absence of the Colonel. Indeed Mannering's 
whole behaviour had impressed upon him an opinion that this 
would be disagreeable ; and such was the ascendency which the 
successful soldier and accomplished gentleinan had attained 
over the young man's conduct, that in no respect would he have 
ventured to offend him. He saw, or thought he saw, in Colonel 
Mannering's general conduct, an approbation of his attachment 
to Miss Bertram. But then he saw still more plainly the 
impropriety of any attempt at a private correspondence, of which 
his parents could not be supposed to approve, and he respected 
this barrier interposed betwixt them, both on Mannering's 
account, and as he was the liberal and zealous protector of Miss 
Bertram. " No,** said he to himself, " I will not endanger the 



GUY MANNERING. 341 

comfort of ray Lucy's present retreat, until I can offer her a 
home of her own." 

With this valorous resolution, which he maintained, although 
his horse, from constant habit, turned his head down the avenue 
of Woodboume, and although he himself passed the lodge twice 
every day, Charles Hazlewood withstood a strong inclination to 
ride down, just to ask how the young ladies were, and whether 
he could be of any service to them during Colonel Mannering's 
absence. But on the second occasion he. felt the temptation so 
severe, that he resolved not to expose himself to it a third time ; 
and, contenting himself with sending hopes and inquiries, and 
so forth, to Woodboume, he resolved to make a visit long pro- 
mised to a family at some distance, and to return in such time 
as to be one of the earliest among Mannering's visitors who 
should congratulate his safe arrival from his distant and hazard- 
ous expedition to Edinburgh. Accordingly, he made out his 
visit, and having arranged matters so as to be informed within 
u few hours after Colonel Mannering reached home, he finally 
resolved, to take leave of the friends with whom he had spent 
the intervening time, with the intention of dining at Wood- 
boume, where he was in a great measure domesticated; and 
this (for he thought much more deeply on the subject than was 
necessaiy) would, he flattered himself, appear a simple, natural, 
and easy mode of conducting hingiself. 

Fate, however, of which lovers make so many complaints, 
was in this case unfavourable to Charles Hazlewood His 
horse's shoes required an alteration, in consequence of the fresh 
weather having decidedly commenced. The lady of the house 
where he was a visitor, chose to indulge in her own room till a 
very late breakfast hour. His friend also insisted on showing 
him a litter of puppies, which his favourite pointer bitch had 
produced that miming. The colours had occasioned some 
doubts about the paternity, — a weighty question of legitimacy, 
to the decision of which Hazlewood's opinion was called in as 
arbiter between his friend and his groom, and which inferred 
in its consequences which of the litter should be drowned, which 
saved. Besides, the Laird himself delayed our young lover's 
departure for a considerable time, endeavouring, with long and 
superfluous rhetoric, to insinuate to Sir Kobert Hazlewood, 
through the medium of his son, his own particular ideas respect- 
ing the line of a meditated tumpike road. It is greatly to the 



S42 WAVKBLET KOVELS. 

Bliame of our young lover's apprehension, that after the tenth 
reiterated account of the matter, he could not see the advantage 
to be obtained by the proposed road passing over the Lang-hirst, 
Windy-knowe, the €roodhouse-park, Hailziecroft, and then 
crossing the river at Simon's Pool, and so by the road to Kipple- 
tringan — and the less eligible line pointed out by the* English 
surveyor, which would go clear through the main enclosures at 
Hazlewood, and cut within a mile, or nearly so, of the house 
itself, destroying the .privacy and pleasure, as his informer 
contended, of the grounds. 

In short, the adviser (whose actual interest was to have the 
bridge built as near as possible to a farm of his own) failed in 
every effort to attract young Hazlewood's attention, until he 
mentioned by chance that the proposed line was favoured by 
"that fellow Glossin," who pretended to take a lead in the 
county. On a sudden, young Hazlewood became attentive and 
interested; and having satisfied himself which was the line 
that Glossin patronised, assured his friend it should not be 
his fault if his father did not countenance any other instead of 
that. But these various interruptions consumed the morning. 
Hazlewood got on horseback at least three hours later than he 
intended, and cursing fine ladies, pointers, puppies, and turnpike 
acts of parliament, saw himself detained beyond the time 
when he could, with propriety, intrude upon the family at 
Woodboume. 

He had passed, therefore, the turn of the road which led to 
that mansion, only edified by the distant appearance of the blue 
smoke curling against the pale sky of the winter evening, when 
he thought he beheld the Dominie taking a footpath for the 
house through the woods. He called after him- — but in vain ; 
for that honest gentleman, never the most susceptible of extra- 
neous impressions, had just that moment « parted from Meg 
Merrilies, and was too deeply wrapped up in pondering upon 
her vaticinations to make any answer to Hazlewood's call. He 
was therefore obliged to let him proceed without inquiry after 
the health of the young ladies, or any other fishing question, to 
which he might, by good chance, have had an answer retiuTied 
wherein Miss Bertram's name might have been mentioned All 
cause for haste was now over — and slackening the reins upon 
his horse's neck, he permitted the animal to ascend at his own 
leisure the steep sandy track between two high banks, wliieh, 



GUY MANNERING. 343 

ruing to a considerable height, commanded, at length, an ex- 
tensive view of the neighbouring country. 

Hazlewood was, however, so far from eskgerly looking forward 
to this prospect, though it had the recommendation that great 
part of the land was his father's, and must necessarily be his 
own, that his head still turned backwards towards the chimneys 
of Woodboume, although at every step his horse made the 
difficulty of employing his eyes in that direction became greater. 
From the reverie in which he was sunk, he was suddenly roused 
by a voice too harsh to be called female, yet too shrill for a 
man : — " What's kept you on the road sae lang ? — ^maun ither 
folk do your wark ?" 

He looked up ; the spokeswoman was very tall, had a volu- 
minous handkerchief rolled round her head, grizzled hair flowing 
in elf-locks from beneath it, a long red cloak, and a staff in her 
hand, headed with a sort of spear-point — ^it was, in short, Meg 
Merrilies. Hazlewood had never seen this remarkable figure 
before ; he drew up his reins in astonishment at her appearance, 
and made a full stop. " I think," continued she, " they that 
hae taen interest in the house of Ellangowan suld sleep nane 
this night ; three men hae been seeking ye, and you are gaun 
hame to sleep in your bed. — ^D'ye think if the lad-baim fa's the 
sister will do weel 1 Na, na !" 

"I don't understand you, good woman," said Hazlewood. 

" K you speak of Miss , I mean of any of the late EUan- 

gowan family, tell me what I can do for them." 

"Of the late Ellangowan family !" she answered with great 
vehemence — " of the late Ellangowan family ! — ^and when was 
there ever, or when will there- ever be, a family of Ellangowan 
but bearing the gallant name of the bauld Bertrams ?" 

" But what do you mean, good woman 1" 

"I am nae good woman — a* the country kens I am bad 
eneugh, and baith they and I may be sorry eneugh that I am 
nae better. But I can do what good women canna and dauma 
do — I can do what would freeze the blood o' them that is bred 
m biggit wa's for naething but to bind bairns' heads, and to 
hap them in the cradle. Hear me ! The guard's drawn off at 
the Custom-house at Portanferry, and it's brought up to Hazle- 
wood-House by your father's orders, because he thinks his 
house is to be attacked this night by the smugglers ; there's nae- 
\\ody means to touch his house ; he has gude blood and gentle 



344 WAVBRLEY KOVEXS. 

blood — I say little o' him for himseU, but there's naebody 
thinks him worth meddling wi\ Send the horsemen back to 
their post cannily and quietly — see an they winna hae wark 
the night — ay wiU they — ^the guns wHL flash and the swords 
will glitter in the braw moon." 

^* GkK)d Grod ! what do you mean 1" said young Hazlewood ; 
'' your words and manner would persuade me you are mad, and 
yet there is a strange combination in what you say." 

'^ I am not mad !" exclaimed the gipsy ; " I have been im- 
prisoned for mad — scourged for mad — ^banished for mad — ^but 
mad I am not. Hear ye, Charles Hazlewood of Hazlewood: 
d'ye bear malice against him that wounded you ?" 

" No, dame, God forbid ! My arm is quite well, and I have 
always said the shot was discharged by accident. I should be 
glad to tell the young man so himself." 

"Then do what I bid ye," answered Meg Merrilies, "and 
ye'll do him mair gude than ever he did you iU ; for if he was 
left to his ill-wishers he would be a bloody corpse ere mom, or 
a banished man — ^but there's ane abune a'. — ^Do as I bid you ; 
send back the soldiers to Portanferry. There's nae mair fear o' 
Hazlewood-House than there's o' Oruffelfell." And she vanished 
with her usual celerity of pace. 

It would seem that the appearance of this female, and the 
mixture of frenzy and enthusiasm in her manner, seldom failed 
to produce the strongest impression upon those whom she 
addressed. Her words, though wild, were too plain and intelli- 
gible for actual madness, and yet too vehement and extravagant 
for sober-minded communication. She seemed acting under 
the influence of an imagination rather strongly excited than 
deranged ; and it is wonderful how palpably the difference, in 
such cases, is impressed upon the mind of the auditor. This 
may account for the attention with which her strange and 
mysterious hints were heard and acted upon. It is certain, at 
least, that young Hazlewood was strongly impressed by her 
sudden appearance and imperative tone. He rode te Hazle- 
wood at a brisk pace. It had been dark for some time before 
he reached the house, and on his arrival there he saw a conflr- 
mation of what the sibyl had hinted. 

Thirty dragoon horses stood under a shed near the offices, 
with their bridles linked together; — three or four soldiers 
attended as a guard, while others stamped up and down with 



GUY MANNERING, 345 

their long broadswords and heavy boots in jfront of the housa 
Hazlewood asked a non-commissioned officer ^'from whence 
they camel" 

" Prom Portanferry." 

" Had they left any guard there ?" 

"No; — ^they had been drawn off by order of Sir Robert 
Hazlewood for defence of his house, against an attack which 
was threatened by the smugglers." 

Charles Hazlewood instantly went in quest of his father, and 
having paid his respects to him upon his return, requested to 
know upon what account he had thought it necessary to send 
for a military escort. Sir Robert assured his son in reply, 
"that from the information, intelligence, and tidings which 
had been communicated to and laid before him, he had the 
deepest reason to believe, credit, and be convinced, that a riotous 
assault would that night be attempted and perpetrated against 
Hazlewood-House, by a set of smugglers, gipsies, and other 
desperadoes." 

"And what, my dear sir," said his son, "should direct the 
fury of such persons against ours rather than any other house 
in the country?" 

"I should rather think, suppose, and be of opinion, sir," 
answered Sir Robert, "with deference to your wisdom and 
experience, that on these occasions and times, the vengeance of 
such persons is directed or levelled against the most important 
and distinguished in point of rank, talent, birth, and situation, 
who have checked, interfered with, and discounten3iiced theii 
unlawful and illegal and criminal actions or deeds." 

Young Hazlewood, who knew his father's foible, answered, 
" that the cause of his surprise did not lie where Sir Robert 
apprehended, but that he only wondered they should think of 
attacking a house where there were so many servants, and where 
a signal to the neighbouring tenants could call in such strong 
assistance ;" and added, " that he doubted much whether the 
reputation of the family would not in some degree suffer fix>m 
calling soldiers from their duty at the Custom-house to protect 
them, as if they were not sufficiently strong to defend themselvea 
upon any ordinary occasion." He even hinted, " that in case 
their house's enemies should observe that this precaution had been 
taken unnecessarily, there would be no end of their sarcasms." 

Sir Robert Hazlewood was rather puzzled at this intimation. 



346 waverleY novels. 

for, like most dull men, he heartily hated and feared ridicaie. 
He gathered himself up, and looked with a sort of pompoua 
embarrassment, as if he wished to be thought to despise the 
opinion of the public, which in reality he dreaded. 

"I really should have thought," he said, "that the injury 
which had ah:eady been aimed at my house in your person, 
being the next heir and representative of the Hazlewood famOy, 
failing me — I should have thought and believed; I say, that 
this would have justified me sufficiently in the eyes of the most 
respectable and the greater part of the people, for taking such 
precautions as are calculated to prevent and impede a repetition 
of outrage." 

" Really, sir," said Charles, " I must remind you of what I 
have often said before, that I am positive the discharge of the 
piece was accidental." 

" Sir, it was not accidental," said his father, angrily : — " but 
you will be wiser than your elders." 

"Keally, sir," replied Hazlewood, "in what so intimately 
concerns myself" 

" Sir, it does not concern you but in a very secondary degree 
— ^that is, it does not concern you, as a giddy young fellow, who 
takes pleasure in contradicting his father ; but it concerns the 
country, sir ; and the county, sir ; and the public, sir ; and the 
kingdom of Scotland, in so far as the interest of the Hazlewood 
family, sir, is committed, and interested, and put in peril, in, 
by, and through you, sir. And the fellow is in safe custody, 
and Mr. Glossin thinks" 

" Mr Glossin, sir 1" 

"Yes, sir, the gentleman who has purchased Ellangowan — 
you know who I mean, I suppose 1" 

" Yes, sir," answered the young man ; " but I should hardly 
have expected to hear you quote such authority. Why, this 
fellow — all the world knows him to be sordid, mean, tricking ; 
and I suspect him to be worse. And you, yourself, my dear sir, 
when did you call such a person a gentleman in your life before 1" 

Why, Charles, I did not mean gentleman in the precise 
sense and meaning, and restricted and proper use, to which, no 
doubt, the phrase ought legitimately to be confined ; but I 
meant to use it relatively, as marking something of that state 
to which he has elevated and raised himself — ^as designing, in 
short, a decent and wealthy and estimable sort of a person." 



GUY MANNERING. 347 

" Allow me to ask, sir," said Charles, " if it was by this man's 
orders that the guard was drawn from Portanferryl"- 

" Sir," replied the Baronet, " I do apprehend that Mr. Glossin 
would not presume to give orders, or even an opinion, unless 
asked, in a matter in which Hadewood-House, and the House 
of Hazlewood — ^meaning by the one this mansion-house of my 
family, and by the other, typically, metaphorically, and parar 
bolically, the family itself — I say, then, where the House of 
Hazlewood, or Hazlewood-House, was so immediately con- 
cerned." 

"I presume, however, sir," said the son, "this Glossin 
approved of the proposal 1" 

" Sir,'* replied his father, " I thought it decent and right and 
proper to consult him as the nearest magistrate, as soon as 
report of the intended outrage reached my ears ; and although 
he declined, out of deference and respect, as became our relative 
situations, to concur in the order, yet he did entirely approve 
of my arrangement." 

At this moment a horse's feet were heard coming very fast up 
the avenue. In a few minutes the door opened, and Mr. Mac- 
Morlan presented himself — "I am under great concern to 
intrude. Sir Robert, but" 

" Give me leave, Mr. Mac-Morlan," said Sir Robert, with a 
gracious flourish of welcome; "this is no intrusion, sir; — ^for 
your situation as Sheriff-substitute calling upon you t6 attend 
to the peace of the county (and you, doubtless, feeling yourself 
particularly called upon to protect Hazlewood-House), you have 
an acknowledged, and admitted, and undeniable right, sir, to 
enter the house of the first gentleman in Scotland, uninvited 
— ^always presuming you to be called there by the duty of your 
office." 

" It is, indeed, the duty of my office," said Mac-Morlan, who* 
waited with impatience an opportunity to speak, ** that makes 
me an intruder." 

"No intrusion!" reiterated the Baronet, gracefully waving 
his hand. 

" But permit me to say. Sir Robert," said the Sheriff-substi- 
tute, ^* I do not come with the purpose of remaining here, but 
to recall these soldiers to Portanferry, and to assure you that I 
will answer for the safety of your house." 

" To withdraw the guard from Hazlewood-House 1" exclaimed 



848 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

the proprietor in mingled displeasure and surprise; and you 
will be answerable for it ! And pray, who are you, sir, that I 
should take your security, and caution, and pledge, official or 
personal, for the safety of Hazlewood-House 1 — I think, sir, and 
believe, sir, and am of opinion, sir, that if any one of these 
family pictures were deranged or destroyed, or injured, it would 
be difficult for me to make up the loss upon the guarantee 
which yoM so obligingly offer me.". 

" In that case I shall be sorry for it. Sir Kobert," answered 
the downright Mac-Morlan ; " but I presume I may escape the 
pain of feeling my conduct the cause of such irreparable loss, 
as I can assure you there will be no attempt upon Hazlewood- 
House whatever, and I have received information which induces 
me to suspect that the rumour was put afloat merely in order 
to occasion the removal of the soldiers from Portanferry. And 
;mder this strong beHef and conviction, I must exert my authority 
as sheriff and chief magistrate of poUce, to order the whole, or 
greater part of them, back again. I regret much, that by my 
accidental absence a good deal of delay has already taken place, 
and we shall not now reach Portanferry until it is late." 

As Mr. Mac-Morlan was the superior magistrate, and expressed 
himself peremptory in the purpose of acting as such, the Baronet, 
though highly offended, could only say, " Very well, sir, it is 
very well. Nay, sir, taike them all with you — I am far from 
desiring any to be left here, sir. We, sir, can protect ourselves, 
sir. But you will have the goodness to observe, sir, that you 
are acting on your own proper risk, sir, and peril, sir, and 
responsibility, sir, if anything shaU happen or befaU to Hazle- 
wood-House, sir, or the inhabitants, sir, or to the furniture and 
paintings, sir." 

" I am acting to the best of my judgment and information. 
Sir Robert," said Mac-Morlan, "and I must pray of you to 
believe so, and to pardon me accordingly. I beg you to observe 
it is no time for ceremony — ^it is already very late." 

But Sir Robert, without deigning to listen to his apologies, 
immediately employed himself with much parade in arming 
and arraying his domestics. Charles Hazlewood longed to 
accompany the military, which were about to depart for Port- 
anferry, and which were now drawn up and mounted by 
direction, and under the guidance of Mr. Mac-Morlan, as the 
civil magistrate. But it woidd have given just pain and offence 



GUY MANNERING. 849 

to his father to have left him at a moment when he conceived 
himself and his mansion-house in danger. Young Hazlewood 
therefore gazed from a window with suppressed regret and 
displeasure, until he heard the officer give the word of 
command. "From the right to the front, by files, m-arrch. 
Leading file, to the right wheel — ^Trot." — The whole .party of 
soldiers then getting into a sharp and uniform pace, were soon 
lost among the trees, and the noise of the hoo& died speedily 
away in the distance. 



CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHTH. 

Wi* coulters and "wi* forehamxners 

We garr'd the bars bang merrily, 
Until we came to the inner prison, 

Where Willie o' Kinmont he did lie. 

Old Border Ballad. 

We return to Portanferry and to Bertram and his honest-hearted 
friend, whom we left most innocent inhabitants of a place built 
for the guilty. The slumbers of the farmer were as sound as it 
was possible. 

But Bertram's first heavy sleep passed away long before mid- 
night, nor could he again recover that state of oblivion. Added 
to the uncertain and uncomfortable state of his mind, his body 
felt feverish and oppressed. This was chiefly owing to the close 
and confined air of the small apartment in which they slept. 
After enduring for some time the broiling and suffocating feeling 
attendant upon such an atmosphere, he rose to endeavour to open 
the window of the apartment, and thus to procure a change of 
air. Alas ! the first trial reminded him that he was in jail, 
and that the building being contrived for security, not comfort, 
the means of procuring fresh air were not left at the disposal oif 
the wretched inhabitants. 

Disappointed in this attempt, he stood by the unmanageable 
window for some time. Little Wasp, though oppressed with 
the fatigue of his journey on the preceding day, crept out of bed 
after his master, and stood by him rubbing his shaggy coat 
against his legs, and expressing, by a murmuring sound, the 
delight which he felt at bein^ restored to him. Thus acooio- 



350 WAVEKLKY NOVELS. 

panied, and waiting until the feverish feeling which at present 
agitated his blood should subside into a desire for warmth and 
slumber, Bertram remained for some time looking out upon the 
sea. 

The tide was now nearly full, and dashed hoarse and near, 
below the base of the building. Now and then a large wave 
reached even the barrier or bulwark which defended the founda- 
tion of the house, and was flung upon it with greater force and 
noise than those which only broke upon the sand. Far in the 
distance, under the indistinct light of a hazy and often over- 
clouded moon, the ocean rolled its multitudinous complication 
of waves, crossing, bursting, and mingling with each other. 

" A wild and dim spectacle," said Bertram to himself, " like 
those crossing tides of fate which haye tossed me about the 
world from my infancy upwards ! When will this uncertainty 
cease, and how soon shall I be permitted to look out for a tran- 
quil home, where I may cultivate • in quiet, and without dread 
and perplexity, those arts of peace from which my cares have 
been hitherto so forcibly diverted 1 The ear of Fancy, it is said, 
can discover the voice of sea-nymphs and tritons amid the burst- 
ing murmurs of the ocean ; would that I could do so, and that 
some siren or Proteus would arise from these billows, to unriddle 
for me the strange maze of fate in which I am so deeply en- 
tangled ! — Happy friend !" he said, looking at the bed where 
Dinmont had deposited his bulky person, " thy cares are confined 
to the narrow round of a healthy and thriving occupatioii !-thou 
canst lay them aside at pleasure, and ei\}oy the deep repose of 
body and mind which wholesome labour has prepared for thee 1" 

At this moment his reflections were broken by little Wasp, 
who, attempting to spring up against the window, b^gan to yelp 
and bark most furiously. The sounds reached Dinmont's ears, 
but without dissipating the illusion which had transported him 
from his wretched apartment to the free air of his own green 
hills. " Hoy, Yarrow, man ! — ^far yaud — ^far yaud !" he mutter- 
ed between his teeth, imagining doubtless that he was calling to 
his sheep-dog, and hounding him in shepherds' phrase against 
some intruders on the grazing. The continued barking of the 
terrier within was answered by the angry ohaUenge of the mastiff 
in the court-yard, which had for a long time been silent, ex- 
cepting only an occasional short and deep note, uttered when 
the moon shone suddenly from among the douda. Kqw, his 



GUY MAKNEBIKQ. S51 

damour was continued and furious, and seamed to be excited 
by some disturbance distinct from the barking of Wasp, which 
had first given him the alarm, and which, with much trouble, 
his master had contrived to still into an angiy note of low 
growling. 

At last Bertram, whose attention was now fiilly awakened, 
conceived that he saw a boat upon the sea, and heard in good 
earnest the sound of oars and of human voices mingling with 
the dash of the billows. "Some benighted fishermen," he 
thought, "or perhaps some of the desperate traders from the 
Isle of Man, They are very hardy, however, to approach so 
near to the Custom-house, where there must be sentinels. It 
is a hxge boat, like a long-boat, and fiill of people ; perhaps it 
belongs to the revenue service." Bertram was confirmed in this 
last opinion by observing that the boat made for a little quay 
which ran into the sea behind the Custom-house, and, jumping 
ashore one after another, the crew, to the number of twenty 
hands, glided secretly up a small lane which divided the Custom- 
house from the Bridewell, and disappeared from his sight, leaving 
only two persons to take care of the boat. 

The dash of these men's oars at first, and latterly the sup- 
pressed sounds of their voices, had excited the wrath of the 
wakeful sentinel in the court-yard, who now exalted his deep 
voice into such a horrid and continuous din, that it awakened 
his brute master, as savage a ban-dog as himself. His cry from 
a window, of " How now, Tearum, what's the matter, sir 1 — 
dewn, d — n ye ! down !" produced no abatement of Tearum's 
vociferation, which in part prevented his master from hearing the 
sounds of alarm which his ferocious vigilance was in the act of 
challenging. But the mate of the two-legged Cerberus was 
gifted with sharper ears than her husband. She also was now 
at the window — " B — ^t ye, gae down and let loose the dog," 
she said ; " they're sporting the door of the Custom-house, and 
the auld sap at Hazlewood House has ordered off the guard. 
But ye hae nae mair heart than a cat." And down the amazon 
sallied to perform the task herself, while her helpmate, more 
jealous of insurrection within doors, than of storm f^om without, 
went from cell to cell to see that the inhabitants of each were 
carefully secured. 

These latter sounds, with which we have made the reader 
acquainted, had their origin in front of the house, and were 



352 WAVEELEY NOVELS. 

consequently imperfectly heard by Bertram, whose apartment, 
afi we have already noticed, looked from the back paitof the 
bmlding upon the sea. He heard, however, a stir and tumult 
in the house, which did not seem to accord with the stem 
seclusion of a prison at the hour of midnight, and, connecting 
them with the arrival of an armed boat at that dead hour, 
could not but suppose that something extraordinary was 
about to take place. In this belief he shook Dinmont by the 
shoulder — " Eh . — Ay ! — Oh ! — ^Ailie, woman, it's no time to 
get up yet," groaned the sleeping man of the mountains. 
More rougUy shaken, however, he gathered himself up, shook 
his ears, and asked, '' In the name of Providence, what's the 
matter r* 

" That I can't tell you," replied Bertram ; . " but either the 
place is on fire, or some extraordinary thing is about to happen. 
Are you not sensible of a smell of fire ? Do you not hear what 
a noise there is of clashing doors within the house, and of 
hoarse voices, murmurs, and distant shouts on the outside 1 
Upon my word, I believe something very extraordinary has 
taken place. — Get up, for the love of Heaven, and let us be on 
our guard." 

Dinmont rose at the idea of danger, as intrepid and un- 
dismayed as any of his ancestors when the beacon-light was 
kindled. " Od, Captain, this is a queer place ! — ^they winna 
let ye out in the day, and they winna let ye sleep in the night. 
Deil, but it wad break my heart in a fortnight. But, Lordsake, 
what a racket they're making now! — Od, I mah we had 
some light. — ^Wasp — ^Wasp, whisht, hinny — ^whisht, my bonnie 
man, and let's hear what they*re doing. — ^Deil's in ye, will ye 
whisht ]" 

They sought in vain among the embers the means of lighting 
their candle, and the noise without still continued. Dinmont 
in his turn had recourse to the window — " Lordsake, Captain ! 
come here. Od, they hae broken the Custom-house !" 

Bertram hastened to the window, and plainly saw a mis- 
cellaneous crowd of smugglers, and blackguards of diflferent 
descriptions, some carrying lighted torches, others bearing 
packages and barrels down the lane to the boat that was lying 
at the quay, to which two or three other fisher-boats were now 
brought round. They were loading each of these in their turn, 
smd one or two had already put off to seaward. *' This speaks 



GUY MANNERING. 353 

for itself," said Bertram; but I fear something worse has 
happened. Do you perceive a strong smell of smoke, or is it 
my fancy?" 

" Fancy ?" answered Dinmont — " there's a reek like a killogie. 
Od, if they bum the Custom-house, it will catch here, and we'll 
lunt like a tar-barrel a' thegither. — Eh ! it wad be fearsome to 
be burnt alive for naething, like as if ane had been a warlock ! 
— ^Mac-Guffog, hear ye!" — ^roaring at the top of his voice; — 
" an ye wad ever hae a haill bane in your skin, let's out, man 1 
let's out !" 

The fire began now to rise high, and thick clouds of smoke 
roUed past the window at which Bertram and Dinmont were 
stationed. Sometimes, as the wind pleased, the dim shroud of 
vapour hid every thing from their sight; sometimes, a red 
glare illuminated both land and sea, and shone full on the 
stem and fierce figures, who, wUd with ferocious activity, were 
engaged in loading the boats. The fire was at length triumph- 
ant, and spouted in jets of flame out at each window of the 
burning building, while huge flakes of flaming materials came 
driving on the wind against the adjoining prison, and rolling a 
dark canopy of smoke over all the neighbourhood. The shouts 
of a furious mob resounded far and wide ; for the smugglers, 
in their triumph, were joined by all the rabble of the little 
town and neighbourhood, now aroused, and in complete agita- 
tion, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour; — some from 
interest m the free-trade, and most from the general love of 
mischief and tumult, natural to a vulgar populace. 

Bertram began to be seriously anxious for their fate. There 
was no stir in the house ; it seemed as if the jailor had deserted 
his charge, and left the prison with its wretched inhabitants to 
the mercy of the conflagration which was spreading towards 
them. In the meantime a new and fierce attack was heard 
upon the outer gate of the Correction-house, which, battered 
with sledge-hammers and crows, was soon forced. The keeper, 
as great a coward as a bully, with his more ferocious wife, had 
fled ; their servants readily surrendered the keys. The liberated 
prisoners, celebrating their deliverance with the wildest yells of 
joy, mingled among the mob which had given them freedom. 

In the midst of the conftision that ensued, three or four of 
the principal smugglers hurried to the apartment of Bertram 
with lighted torches, and armed with cutlasses and pistols. — 
VOL. IL 2 a 



354 WAVERLET NOVELS. 

"Der Deyvil," said the leader, "here's our mark !" and two of 
them seized on Bertram ; but one whispered in his ear, " Make 
no resistance till you are in the street." The same individual 
found an instant to say to Dinmont — " FoUow your friend, and 
help when you see the time come." 

In the hiury of the moment, Dinmont obeyed and followed 
close. The two smugglers dragged Bertram along the passage, 
down stairs, through the court-yard, now illuminated by the 
glare of fire, and into the narrow street to which the gate i 

opened, where, in the confusion, the gang were necessarily in || 

some degree separated from each other. A rapid noise, as of a ' 

body of horse advancing, seemed to add to the disturbance. 
"Hagel and wetter! what is that?" said the leader; "keep 
together, kinder — ^look to the prisoner." But in spite of his 
charge, the two who held Bertram were the last of the party. 

The sounds and signs of violence were heard in front. The 
press became ftiriously agitated, while some endeavoured to 
defend themselves, others to escape ; shots were fired, and the 
glittering broadswords of the dragoons began to appear flashing 
above the heads of the rioters. " Now," said the warning whisper 
of the man who held Bertram's left arm, the same who had 
spoken before, " shake off that fellow, and foUow me." 

Bertram, exerting his strength suddenly and effectually, easily 
burst from the grasp of the man who held his coUar on the 
right side. The fellow attempted to draw a pistol, but was 
. prostrated by a blow of Dinmont's fist, which an ox could 
\> hardly have received without the same humiliation. " Follow 
me quick," said the friendly partisan, and dived through a veiy 
narrow and dirty lane which led from the main street. 

No pursuit took place. The attention of the smugglers had 
been otherwise and very disagreeably engaged by the sudden 
appearance of Mac-Morlan and the party of horse. The loud 
manly voice of the provincial ma^strate was heard proclaiming 
the riot act, and charging "all those unlawftdly assembled to 
disperse at their own proper periL" This interruption would 
indeed have happened in time sufl&cient to have prevented the 
attempt, had not the magistrate received upon the road some 
false information, which led him to think that the smugglers 
were to land at the Bay of EUangowan. Nearly two hours were 
lost in consequence of this false intelligence, which it may be no 
lack of charity to suppose that Glossin, so deeply interested in 



GUY MANNERING. 365 

the issue of that night's daring attempt, had contrived to throw 
in Mac-Morlan's way, availing himself of the knowledge that the 
soldiers had lefb Hazlewood-Honse, which would soon reach an 
ear so anxious as his. 

In the mean time, Bertram followed his guide, and was in his 
turn followed by Dinmont. The shouts of the mob, the tramp- 
ling of the horses, the dropping pistol-shots, sunk more and more 
faintly upon their ears ; when at the end of the dark lane they 
found a post-chaise with four horses. " Are you here, in God's 
name 1" said the guide to the postilion who drove the leaders. 

" Ay, troth am I," answered Jock Jabos, " and I wish I were 
ony gate else." 

" Open the carriage, then — ^You gentlemen get into it ; — ^in a 
short time you'll be in a place of safety — and" (to Bertram) 
" remember your promise to the gipsy wife !" 

Bertram, resolving to be passive in the hands of a person who 
had just rendered him such a distinguished piece of service, got 
into the chaise as directed. Dinmont followed ; Wasp, who had 
kept close by them, sprung in at the same time, and ^e carriage 
drove off very fast. " Have a care o' me," said Dinmont, " but 
this is the queerest thing yet ! — Od, I trust they'll no coup us — 
and then what's to come o' Dumple 1 I would rather be on his 
back than in the Deuke's coach, Grod bleeis him." 

Bertram observed, that they could not go at that rapid rate to 
any veiy great distance without changing horses, and that they 
might insist upon remaining till day-light at the first inn they 
stopped at, or at least upon being made acquainted with the pur- 
pose and termination of their journey, and Mr. Dinmont might 
there give directions about his faithM horse, which would pro- 
bably be safe at the stables where he had lefb him. — ** Awed, 
aweel, e'en sae be it for Dandie. — Od, if we were ance out o' this 
tnndling kist o' a thing, I am thinking they wad find it hard wark 
to gar us gang ony gate but where we liked oursells." 

While he thus spoke, the carriage making a sudden turn, 
showed them, through the left window, the village at some dis- 
tance, still widely beaconed by the fire, which, having reached a 
storehouse wherein spirits were deposited, now rose high into the 
air, a wavering column of brilliant light. They had^not long time 
to admire this spectacle, for another turn of the road carried them 
into a close lane between plantations, through which the chaise 
proceeded in nearly total darkness, but with unabated speed. 



856 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 



CHAPTER FORTY-NINTH. 

The night draye on wi' sangs and clatter, 
And aye the ale was growing better. 

Tam o' Shatter. 

We must now return to Woodboume, which, it may be remem 
bered, we left just afber the Colonel had given some directions 
to his confidential servant. When he returned, his absence of 
mind, and an unusual expression of thought and anxiety upon 
his features, struck the ladies whom he joined in the drawing- 
room. Mannering was not, however, a man to be questioned, 
even by those whom he most loved, upon the cause of the mental 
agitation which these signs expressed. The hour of tea arrived, 
and the party were partaking of that refreshment in silence, 
when a carriage drove up to the door, and the beU announced 
the arrival of a visitor. " Surely," said Mannering, " it is too 
soon by some hours." — 

There was a short pause, when Barnes, opening the door of 
the saloon, announced Mr. PleydeU. In marched the lawyer, 
whose weU-brushed black coat, and well-powdered wig, together 
with his point ruffles, brown silk stockings, highly varnished 
shoes, and gold buckles, exhibited the pains which the old gentle- 
man had taken to prepare his person for the ladies' society. He 
was welcomed by Mannering with a hearty shake by the hand — 
" The very man I wished to see at this moment !" 

" Yes," said the counsellor, " I told you I would take the first 
opportunity ; so I have ventured to leave the Court for a week 
in session time — ^no common sacrifice — but I had a notion I could 
be useful, and I was to attend a proof here about the same time. 
But will you not introduce me to the young ladies ? — ^Ah ! there 
is one I should have known at once, from her family likeness ! 
Miss Lucy Bertram, my love, I am most happy to see you." — 
And he folded her in Ms arms, and gave her a hearty kiss on 
each side of the face, to which Lucy submitted iq blushing 
resignation. • 

" On rCarrite pas dans un si beau chemin" continued the gay 
old gentleman, and as the Colonel presented him to Julia, took 
the same liberty with that fair lady's cheek. Julia laughed, 
coloured, and disengaged herself. " T beg a thousand pardona," 



GUY MANNEBING. 367 

Baid the Lawyer, with a bow which was not at all professionally 
awkward; — ^^age and old fashions give privileges, and I can 
hardly say whether I am most sorry just now at being too weU 
entitled to claim them at all, or happy in having such an oppor- 
tunity to exercise them so agreeably." 

" Upon my word, sir," said Miss Mannering, laughing, " if 
you make such flattering apologies, we shall begin to doubt 
whether we can admit you to shelter yourself under your alleged 
qualifications. 

" I can assure you, Julia," said the Colonel, " you are perfectly 
right ; my friend the counsellor is a dangerous person ; the last 
time I had the pleasure of seeing him, he was closeted with a 
fair lady, who had granted him a Uterd-tite at eight in the morning." 

" Ay, but Colonel," said the coimsellor, " you should add, I 
was more indebted to my chocolate than my charms for so 
distinguished a &vour, from a person of such propriety of demea- 
nour as Mrs. Rebecca." 

" And that should remind me, Mr. Pleydell," said Julia, " to 
offer you tea — ^that is, supposing you have dined." 

" Anything, Miss Mannering, from your hands," answered the 
gallant jurisconsult ; ^^ yes, I have dined — ^that is to say, as people 
dine at a Scotch inn." 

" And that is indifferently enough," said the colonel, with his 
hand upon the beU-handle; — "give me leave to order some- 
thing." 

" Why, to say truth," replied Mr. Pleydell, " I had rather not ; 
I have been inquiring into that matter, for you must know I 
stopped an instant below to puU off my boot-hose, *' a world too 
wide for my shrunk shanks,' " glancing down with some com- 
placency upon limbs which looked veiy well for his time of life, 
" and I had some conversation with your Barnes, and a very in- 
telligent person whom I presume to be the housekeeper ; and it 
was settled among us — tota reperspecta — ^I beg Miss Mannering's 
pardon for my Latin — that the old lady should add to your light 
family-supper the more substantial refreshment of a brace of wild- 
ducks. I told her (always under deep submission) my poor 
thoughts about the sauce, which concurred exactly with her own; 
and, if you please, I would rather wait till they are ready before 
eating anything solid." 

" And we will anticipate our usual hour of supper," said the 
Colonel 



368 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

" With all my heart," said Pleydell, " providing I do not lose 
the ladies' company a moment tlie sooner. I am of counsel with 
my old friend Burnet,* I love the ccena, the supper of the ancients, 
the plesusant meal and social glass that wash out of one's mind the 
cobwebs that business or gloom have been spinning in our brains 
aU day." 

The vivacity of Mr. Pleydell's look and manner, and the quiet- 
ness with which he made himself at home on the subject of his 
little epicurean comforts, amused the ladies, but particularly 
Miss Mannering, who immediately gave the counsellor a great 
deal of flattering attention ; and more pretty things were said on 
both sides during the service of the tea-table than we have lei- 
sure to repeat. 

As soon as this was over, Mannering led the counsellor by the 
arm into a small study which opened from the saloon, and where, 
according to the custom of the family, there were always lights 
and a good fire in the evening. 

" I see," said Mr. Pleydell, " you have got something to tell 
me about the EUangowan business — Is it terrestrial or celestial ? 
What says my military Albumazar ? Have you calculated the 
course of futurity 1 have you consulted your Ephemerides, yoiur 
Almochoden, your Almuten V* 

"No, truly, counsellor," replied Mannering — "you are the 
only Ptolemy I intend to resort to upon the present occasion. A 
second Prospero, I have broken my staff, and drowned my book 
far beyond plummet depth. But I have great news notwith- 
standing. Meg Merrilies, our Egyptian sibyl, has appeared to 
the Dominie this very day, and, as I conjecture, has frightened 
the honest man not a little." 

" Indeed ]" 

"Ay, and she has done me the honour to open a correspond- 
ence with me, supposing me to be as deep in astrological mys- 
teries as when we first met. Here is her scroll, delivered to me 
by the Dominie." 

Pleydell put on his spectacles. — " A vile greasy scrawl, indeed 
— and the letters are uncial or semi-uncial, as somebody calls 
your large text hand, and in size and perpendicularity resemble 
the ribs of a roasted pig — I can hardly make it out." 

" Read aloud," said Mannering. 

" I win try," answered the lawyer, " * You afire a good seeker^ 

* Note L. Lord Monboddo. 



GUY IfANNERING. 359 

hut a bad finder; you set yowrself to ^oip a fallmg house^ hut had 
a gey guess it would rise again. Lend your hand to the wark that*8 
nea/Ty as you lent yov/r ee to the weird that was far, Howe a carriage ^ 
this 7i/ight hy ten o*clock, at the end of the Orooked Dykes at Pirrtam,- \ 
ferry J and let it hring the folk to Woodboume Ikat shall ask them^ if 
they be there IN gm)d's name.' Stay, here follows some poetry — 

* Dark shall be light. 
Arid wrong dons to rigkt^ 
When Bertram's right and Bertram^s might 
ShaJl meet on Ellangoioan* s height. ' 

A most mystic epistle truly, and closes in a vein of poetry 
worthy of tibe Cumaean sibyl. — ^And what have you done?" 

" Why," said Mannering, rather reluctantly, " I was loth to 
risk any opportunity of throwing light on this business. The 
woman is perhaps crazed, and these effusions may arise only 
from visions of her imagination ; — ^but you were of opinion that 
she knew more of that strange story than she ever told." 

" And so," said PleydeU, " you sent a carriage to the place 
named]" 

" You will laugh at me if I own I did," replied the Colonel 

"Who, II" replied the advocate — "No, truly; I think it 
was the wisest thing you could do." 

"Yes," answered Mannering, well pleased to have escaped 
the ridicule he apprehended ; " you know the worst is paying 
the chaise-hire; — ^I sent a post-chaise and four from Kipple- 
tringan, with instructions corresponding to the letter. The 
horses will have a long and cold station on the out-posts to- 
night if our intelligence be false." 

" Ay, but I think it will prove otherwise," said the lawyer. 
" This woman has played a part till she believes it ; or, if she be 
a thorough-paced impostor, without a single grain of self- 
delusion to qualify her knavery, still she may think herself 
bound to act in character. This I know, that I could get 
nothing out of her by the common modes of interrogation, and 
the wisest thing we can do is to give her an opportunity of 
making the discovery her own way. And now have you more 
to say, or shall we go to the ladies ?" 

"Why, my mind is uncommonly agitated," answered the 
Colonel, " and — but I have really no more to say — only I shall 
count the minutes till the carriage returns ; but you cannot be 
expected to be so anxious." 



360 WAVEBLBY NOVELS. 

"Whjy no — use is all in all,'' said the more experienced 
lawyer. '' I am much interested, certaLnly, but I think I shall 
be able to survive the interval, if the ladies wiU afford us some 
music." 

'^And with the assistance of the wild-ducks by and byl" 
suggested Mannering. 

"True, Colonel; a lawyer's anxiety about the fate of the 
most interesting cause has seldom spoiled either his sleep or 
digestion.* And yet I shall be very eager to bear the rattle of 
these wheels on their return, notwithstanding." 

So saying, he rose and led the way into the next room, where 
Miss Mannering, at his request, took her seat at the harpsi- 
chord. Lucy Bertram, who sung her native melodies very 
sweetly, was accompanied by her friend upon the instrument, 
and Julia afterwards performed some of Scarlatti's sonatas with 
great brilliancy. The old lawyer, scraping a little upon the 
violoncello, and being a member of the gentlanen's concert in 
Edinburgh, was so greatly delighted with this mode of spend- 
ing the evening, that I doubt if he once thought of the wild- 
ducks until Barnes informed the company that supper was 
ready. 

^* Tell Mrs. Allan to have something in readiness," said the 
Colonel — " I expect — that is, I hope — perhaps some company 
may be here to-night ; and let the men sit up, and do not lock 
the upper gate on the lawn until I desire you." 

" Lord, sir," said Julia, " whom can you possibly expect 
to-night?" 

" Why, some persons, strangers to me, talked of calling in 
the evening on business," answered her father, not without 
embarrassment, for he would little have brooked a disappoint- 
ment which might have thrown ridicule on his judgment ; '' it 
is quite uncertaru." 

" Well, we shall not pardon them for disturbing our party," 
said Julia, ^^ unless they bring as much good humour, and as 
susceptible hearts, as my friend and admirer — for so he haa 
dubbed himself— Mr. PleydeU." 

" Ah, Miss Julia," said Pleydell, offering his arm with an air 
of gsdlantry to conduct her into the eating-room, ^^the time 
has been — ^when I returned from Utrecht in the year 1738 " — 

" Pray, don't talk of it," answered the young lady — " we like 
* Note M. Lawyers' Sleepless Nights. 



GUY MANNERING. 361 

you much better as you are. Utrecht, in Heaven's name 1 — • 
I dare say you have spent all the intervening years in getting 
rid so completely of the effects of your Dutch education." 

"0 forgive me, Miss Mannering," said the lawyer; the 
Dutch are a much more accomplished people in point of gal- 
lantry than their volatile neighbours are willing to admit. They 
are constant as clock-work in their attentions." 

'* I should tire of that," said Julia. 

" Imperturbable in their good temper," continued PleydelL 

" Worse and worse," said the young lady. 

"And then," said the old beau gargon, "although for six 
times three hundred and sixty-five days your swain has placed 
the capuchin round your neck, and the stove under your feet, 
and driven your little sledge upon the ice in winter, and your 
cabriole through the dust in summer, you may dismiss Tii'm at 
once, without reason or apology, upon the two thousand one 
hundred and ninetieth day, which, according to my hasty cal- 
culation, and without reckoning leap-years, will complete the 
cycle of the supposed adoration, and that without your amiable 
feelings having the slightest occasion to be alarmed for the con- 
sequences to those of Mynheer." 

" Well," replied Julia, " that last is truly a Dutch recom- 
mendation, Mr. Pleydell — crystal and hearts would lose all their 
merit in the world, if it were not for their fragility." 

" Why, upon that point of the argument. Miss Mannering, it 
is as difficult to find a heart that will break, as a glass that will 
not ; and for that reason I would press the value of mine own — 
were it not that I see Mr. Sampson's eyes have been closed, and 
his hands clasped for some time, attending the end of our con- 
ference to begin the grace — And, to say the truth, the appear- 
ance of the wild-ducks is very appetizing." So saying, the worthy 
counsellor sat himself to table, and laid aside his gallantry for 
awhile, to do honour to the good things placed before him. 
Nothing further is recorded of Tiini for some time, excepting an 
observation that the ducks were roasted to a single turn, and 
that Mrs. Allan's sauce, of claret, lemon, and cayenne, was 
beyond praise. 

" I see," said Miss Mannering, " I have a formidable rival in 
Mr. Pleydell's favour, even on the very first night of his avowed 
admiration." 

" Paa-don me, my fair lady," answered the counsellor, — ^ yom 



362 WAVEKLEY NOVELS. 

avowed rigour alone has induced me to commit the solecism of 
eating a good supper in your presence; how shall I support 
your fix)wns without reinforcing my strength 1 Upon the same 
principle, and no other, I will aak permission to drink wine 
with you." 

" This is the fashion of Utrecht also, I suppose, Mr. 
PleydeU V 

" Forgive me, madam," answered the coimsellor ; "the French 
themselves, the patterns of all that is gallant, term their tavern- 
keepers restaurateurs, alluding, doubtless, to the relief they afford 
to the disconsolate lover, when bowed down to the earth by his 
mistress's severity. My own case requires so much relief, that 
I must trouble you for that other wing, Mr. Sampson, without 
prejudice to my afterwards applying to Miss Bertram for a tart ; 
— be pleased to tear the wing, sir, instead of cutting it off — Mr. 
Barnes will assist you, Mr. Sampson, — ^thank you, sir, — ^and, 
Mr. Barnes, a glass of ale, if you please." 

While the old gentleman, pleased with Miss Mannering's 
liveliness and attention, rattled away for her amusement and 
his own, the impatience of Colonel Mannering began to exceed 
all bounds. He declined sitting down at table, under pretence 
that he never ate supper ; and traversed the parlour, in which 
they were, with hasly and impatient steps, now throwing up 
the window to gaze upon the dark lawn, now listening for the 
remote sound of the carriage advancing up the avenue. At 
length, in a feeling of uncontrollable impatience, he left the 
room, took his hat and cloak, and pursued his walk up the 
avenue, as if his so doing would hasten the approach of those 
whom he desired to see. 

" I really wish," said Miss Bertram, " Colonel Mannering 
would not venture out after night-falL You must have heard, 
Mr. PleydeU, what a cruel firight we had 1" 

"Oh, with the smugglers?" replied the advocate. "They 
are old friends of mine ; — I was the means of bringing some 
of them to justice a long time since, when sheriff of this 
county." 

"And then the alarm we had immediately afterwards," 
added Miss Bertram, "from the vengeance of one of these 
wretches." 

" When young Hazlewood was hurt — I heard of that too." 

*' Imagine, my dear Mr. PlevdeU," continued Lucy, " how 



> 



GUY MANNERING. 363 

much Miss Mannering and I were alarmed, when a ruffian, 
equally dreadM for his great strength, and the sternness of his 
features, rushed out upon us !" 

"You must know, Mr. Pleydell," said Julia, unable to 
suppress her resentment at this undesigned aspersion of her 
admirer, " that young Hazlewood is so handsome in the eyes 
of the young ladies of this country, that they think every 
person shocking who comes near him." 

" Oho !" thought Pleydell, who was by profession an observer 
of tones and gestures, " there^s something wrong here between 

my young friends. ^WeU, Miss Mannering, I have not seen 

young Hazlewood since he was a boy, so the ladies may be 
perfectly right; but I can assure you, in spite of your scorn, 
that if you want to see handsome men you must go to Holland ; 
the prettiest fellow I ever saw was a Dutchman, in spite of his 
being called Vanbost, or Vanbuster, or some such barbarous 
name. He will not be quite so handsome now, to be sure." 

It was now Julia's turn to look a little out of countenance 
at the chance hit of her learned admirer, but that instant the 
Colonel entered the room. " I can hear nothing of them yet," 
he said; "still, however, we will not separate. — Where is 
Dominie Sampson ?" 

" Here, honoured sir." 

" What is that book you hold in your hand, Mr. Sampson ?" 

" It's even the learned De Lyra, sir — I would crave his honour 
Mr. Pleydell's judgment, always with his best leisure, to expound 
a disputed passage." 

" I am not in the vein, Mr. Sampson," answered Pleydell ; 
"here's metal more attractive — I do not despair to engage 
these two young ladies in a glee or a catch, wherein I, even I 
myself, wiU adventure myself for the bass part. Hang De Lyra, 
man ; keep him for a fitter season." 

The disappointed Dominie shut his ponderous tome, much 
marvelling in his mind how a person possessed of the lawyer's 
erudition, could give his mind to these frivolous toys. But the 
counsellor, indifferent to the high character for learning which 
he was trifling away, filled himself a large glass of Burgundy, 
and after preluding a little with a voice somewhat the worse 
for the wear, gave the ladies a courageous invitation to join in 
" We be three poor Mariners," and accomplished his own part 
therein with great eclat. 



364 WAVBBLBY NOVELS. 

^* Are you not withering your roses with sitting up so late, 
my young ladies V* said the Colonel 

" Not a bit, sir," answered Julia ; " your friend, Mr. Pleydell, 
threatens to become a pupil of Mr. Sampson's to-morrow, so we 
must make the most of our conquest to-night." 

This led to another musical trial of skill, and that to lively 
conversation. At length, when the solitary sound of one 
o'clock had long since resounded on the ebon ear of night, and 
the next signal of the advance of time was close approaching, 
Mannering, whose impatience had long subsided into disap- 
pointment and despair, looked at his watch, and said, ^'We 
must now give them up" — ^when at that instant — But what 
then befell wiU require a separate chapter. 



CHAPTER FIFTIETH. 

Justice. This does indeed confbnn each circnmstance 
The gipsy told 



No orphan, nor -without a friend art thou 

/ am tiiy father, Jiere's thy mother, there 

Thy uncle This thy first cousin, and these 

Are all thy near relations 1 

The Critio. 

As Mannering replaced his watch, he heard a distant and 
hoUow soimd — " It is a carriage for certain — ^no, it is but the 
sound of the wind among the leafless trees. Do come to the 
window, Mr. Pleydell." The counsellor, who, with his large 
silk handkerchief in his hand, was expatiating away to Julia 
upon some subject which he thought was interesting, obeyed 
the summons — ^first, however, wrapping the handkerchief round 
his neck by way of precaution against the cold air. The sound 
of wheels became now very perceptible, and Pleydell, as if he 
had reserved all his curiosity till that moment, ran out to the 
halL The Colonel rung for Barnes to desire that the persons 
who came in the carriage might be shown into a separate room, 
being altogether uncertain whom it might contain. It stopped, 
however, at the door, before his purpose could be fiilly explained. 
A moment after Mr. Pleydell called out, " Here's our Liddesdale 
friend, I protest, with a strapping young fellow of the same 



OUT MANNBEmO. 866 

calibre." His voice arrested Bininont, who recognised him with 
equal surprise and pleasure. " Od, if it*s your honour, we'll a' 
be as right and tight as thack and rape can make us.""*^ 

But while the farmer stopped to make his bow, Bertram, 
dizzied with the sudden glare of light, and bewildered with the 
circimistances of his situation, ahnost imconsciously entered the 
open door of the parlour, and confronted the -Colonel, who was 
just advancing towards it. The strong light of the apartment 
left no doubt of his identity, and he himself was as much 
confounded with the appearance of those to whom he so 
unexpectedly presented himself, as they were by the sight of 
so utterly unlooked-for an object. It must be remembered 
that each individual present had their own peculiar reasons for 
looking with terror upon what seemed at first sight a spectral 
apparition. Mannering saw before him the man whom he 
supposed he had killed in India ; Julia beheld her lover in a 
most peculiar and hazardous situation; and Lucy Bertram at 
once knew the person who had fired upon young Hazlewood. 
Bertram, who uiterpreted the fixed and motionless astonishment 
of the Colonel into displeasure at his intrusion, hastened to 
say that it was involuntary, sioce he had been hurried hither 
without even knowing whither he was to be transported. 

"Mr. Brown, I believe?" said Colonel Mannering. 

"Yes, sir," replied the young man, modestly, but with 
firmness, " the same you knew in India ; and who ventures 
to hope, that what you did then know of him is not such as 
should prevent his requesting you would favour him with your 
attestation to his character, as a gentleman and man of honour." 

" Mr. Brown — I have been seldom — never — so much surprised 
— certainly, sir, in whatever passed between us, you have a 
right to command my favourable testimony." 

At this critical moment entered the coimsellor and Dinmont. 
The former beheld, to his astonishment, the Colonel but just 
recovering from his first surprise, Lucy Bertram ready to faint 
with terror, and Miss Mannering in an agony of doubt and 
apprehension, which she in vain endeavoured to disguise or 
suppress. "What is the meaning of all this?" said he; "has 
this young fellow brought the Gorgon's head in his hand 1 — let 
me look at him. — By Heaven I" he muttered to himself, "the 

* When a farmer's crop is got safely into the bam-yard, it iA said to be 
made tast with thack and rape — Anglic^, straw and rope. 



»^66 WAVEELEY NOVELS. 

irery image of old Ellangowan ! — ^Yes, the same manly form and 
handsome features, but with a world of more intelligence in the 
face — Yes ! — ^the witch has kept her word." Then instantly 
passing to Lucy, '' Look at that man, Miss Bertram, my dear ; 
have you never seen any one like him ]" 

Lucy had only ventured one glance at this object of terror, 
by which, however, from his remarkable height and appearance, 
she at once recognised the supposed assassin of young Hazlewood 
— a conviction which excluded, of course, the more favourable 
association of ideas which might have occurred on a closer view. 
— " Don^t ask me about him, sir," said she, turning away her 
eyes; ''send him away, for heaven^s sake! we shall all be 
murdered !" 

"Murdered ! where*s the poker?" said the advocate in some 
alarm. " But nonsense ! — we are three men besides the servants, 
and there is honest Liddesdale, worth haJf-ardozen to boot — ^we 
have the Tnajor vis upon our side. However, here, my friend 
Dandie — Davie — ^what do they call you? — ^keep between that 
fellow and us for the protection of the ladies." 

" Lord ! Mr. Pleydell," said the astonished farmer, " that's 
Captain Brown ; do ye no ken the Captain ?" 

" Nay, if he*s a friend of yours, we may be safe enough," 
answered Pleydell ; " but keep near him." 

All this passed with such rapidity, that it was over before the 
Dominie had recovered himself from a fit of absence, shut the 
book which he had been studying in a comer, and advancing 
to obtain a sight of the strangers, exclaimed at once, upon 
beholding Bertram, " If the grave can give up the dead, that is 
my dear and honoured master !" 

" We're right after all, by Heaven ! I was sure I was right," 
said the lawyer ; — " he is the very image of his father. — Come, 
Colonel, what do you think of, that you do not bid your guest 
welcome ? I think — I believe — I trust we're right — ^never saw 
such a likeness — But patience — ^Dominie, say not a word. — Sit 
down, young gentleman." 

" I beg pardon, sir ; — ^if I am, as I understand, in Colonel 
Mannering's house, I should wish first to know if my accidental 
appearance here gives offence, or if I am welcome?" 

Mannering instantly made an effort. "Welcome? — ^most 
certainly, especially if you can point out how I can serve you, 
I believe I may have some wrongs to repair towards you — J 



GUY MANNERING. 367 

have often suspected so; but your sudden and unexpected 
appearance, connected with painful recollections, prevented my 
saying at first, as I now say, that whatever has procured me the 
honour of this visit, it is an acceptable one." 

Bertram bowed with an air of distant, yet civil acknowledg- 
ment, to the grave courtesy of Mannering. 

" Julia, my love, you had better retire. — Mr. Brown, you will 
excuse my daughter ; there are circumstances which I perceive 
rush upon her recollection." 

Miss Mannering rose and retired accordingly; yet, as she 
passed Bertram, could not suppress the words, '^ Infatuated ! a 
second time !" but so pronounced as to be heard by him alone. 
Miss Bertram accompanied her friend, much surprised, but 
without venturing a second glance at the object of her terror. 
Some mistake she saw there was, and was unwilling to increase 
it by denouncing the stranger as an assassin. He was known, 
she saw, to the Colonel, and received as a gentleman : certainly 
he either was not the person she suspected, or Hazlewood was 
right in supposing the shot accidental. 

The remaining part of the company would have formed no 
bad group for a skilful painter. Each was too much embarrassed 
with his own sensations to observe those of the others. Bertram 
most unexpectedly found himself in the house of one whom he 
was alternately disposed to dislike as his personal enemy, and to 
respect as the father of Julia ; Mannering was struggling between 
his high sense of courtesy and hospitality, his joy at finding 
himself relieved from the guilt of having shed life in a private 
quarrel, and the former feelings of dislike and prejudice, which 
revived in his haughty mind at the sight of the object against 
whom he had entertained them; Sampson, supporting his 
shaking limbs by leaning on the back of a chair, fixed his eyes 
upon Bertram, with a staring expression of nervous anxiety, 
which convulsed his whole visage ; Dinmont, enveloped in Ids 
loose shaggy great-coat, and resembling a huge bear erect upon 
his hinder legs, stared on the whole scene with great round eyes 
that witnessed his amazement. 

The counsellor alone was in his element: shrewd, prompt, 
and active, he already calculated the prospect of brilliant success 
in a strange, eventful, and mysterious law-suit, — and no young 
monarch, flushed with hopes, and at the head of a gallant army, 
oould experience more glee when taking the field on his first 



368 WAVERLET NOVELS. 

campaigii. He hustled about with great energy, and took the 
arrangement of the whole explanation upon himself. 

" Come, come, gentlemen, sit down ; this is all in my province 
— ^you must let me arrange it for you. Sit down, my dear 
Colonel, and let me manage; sit down, Mr. Brown, aut quo- 
cumque alio nomine vocaris — ^Dominie, take your seat — draw in 
your chair, honest Liddesdale." 

" I dinna ken, Mr. Pleydell," said Dinmont, looking at his 
dreadnought-coat, then at the handsome furniture of the room, 
*' I had maybe better gang some gate else, and leave ye till your 
cracks — I'm no just that weel put on." 

The Colonel, who by this time recognised Dandie, immediately 
went up and bid him heartily welcome ; assuring him, that from 
what he had seen of him in Edinburgh, he was sure his rough 
coat and thick-soled boots would honour a royal drawing-room. 

" Na, na, Colonel, we're just plain up-the-country folk ; but 
na« doubt I would fain hear ony pleasure that was gaun to 
happen the Captain, and I'm sure a' will gae right if Mr. PleydeU 
will take his bit job in hand." 

"You're right, Dandie — spoke like a Hieland* oracle — and 
now be silent. Well, you are all seated at last ; take a glass 
of wine till I begin my catechism methodically. And now," 
turning to Bertram, " my dear boy, do you know who or what 
you are 1" 

In spite of his perplexity, the catechumen could not help 
laughing at the conunencement, and answered,' " Indeed, sir, I 
formerly thought I did ; but I own late circumstances have made 
me somewhat uncertain." 

" Then tell us what you formerly thought yourself." 

" Why, I was in the habit of thinking and calling myself 
Vanbeest Brown, who served as a cadet or volimteer under 

Colonel Mannering, when he commanded the regiment, 

in which capacity I was not unknown to him." 

" There," said the Colonel, " I can assure Mr. Brown of his 
identity ; and add, what his modesty may have forgotten, that 
he was distinguished aa a young man of talent and spirit." 

" So much the better, my dear sir," said Mr. Pleydell ; " but 

* It may not be anuecessary to tell southern readers, that the mountain* 
ons country in the south-weatem borders of Scotland is called Hieland, 
though totally different from the much more mountainous and more «k* 
tensive districts of the north, usually called Hiolands. 



GUY MANNEKING. 369 

that is to general diaracter — Mr. Brown must tell us where he 
was bom." 

" In Scotland, I believe, but the place uncertain." 

" Where educated r 

" In Holland^ certainly." 

" Do you remember nothing of your early life before you left 
Scotland?" 

" Very imperfectly ; — ^yet I have a strong idea, perhaps more 
deeply impressed upon me by subsequent hard usage, that I was 
during my childhood the object of much solicitude and affection. 
I have an indistinct remembrance of a good-looking man 
whom I used to caU papa, and of a lady who was mfirm in 
health, and who, I think, must have been my mother ; but it 
is an imperfect and confiisM recollection. I remember, too, a 
tall, thin, kind-tempered man in black, who used to teach me 
my letters and walk out with me ; — and I think the very last 
time" 

Here the Dominie could contain no longer. While every 
succeeding word served to prove that the child of his benefactoi 
stood, before him, he had struggled with the utmost difficulty to 
suppress his emotions; but, when the juvenile recollections 
of Bertram turned tow:ards his tutor and his precepts, he was 
compelled to give way to his feelings. He rose hastily from his 
chau-, and with clasped hands, trembling limbs, and streaming 
eyes, called out aloud, " Harry Bertram ! — ^look at me — ^was I 
not the man V* 

"Yes I" said Bertram, starting from his seat as if a sudden 
light had burst in upon his imind,— " Yes — ^that was my name ! 
— ^and that is the voice and the figure of my kind old master 1" 

The Dominie threw himself into his arms, pressed him a 
thousand times to his bosom in convulsions of transport which 
shook his whole frame, sobbed hysterically, and at length, in the 
emphatic language of Scripture, lifted up his voice and wept 
aloud. Colonel Mannering had recourse to his handkerchief; 
PleydeH made wry faces and wiped the glasses of his spectacles ; 
and honest Dinmont, after two loud blubbering explosions, ex- 
claimed, " Deil's in the man ! he's gajrr'd me do that I haena 
done since my auld mither died." 

"Come, come," said the counsellor at last, "silence in the 
court. — ^We have a clever party to contend with ; we must lose 
VOL. n. 2 b 



370 WArKELBY NOVELS. 

no time in gathering our information — ^for anything I knoW; 
there may be something to be done before day-break." 

^' I will order a horse to be saddled if yon please/' said the 
Colonel. 

" No, no, time enough — ^time enongh. But come, Dominie ; 
— I have allowed you a competent space to express your feel- 
ings — ^I must circumduce the term ; you must let me proceed in 
my examination." 

The Dominie wa^ habitually obedient to any one who chose 
to impose commands upon him ; he sunk back into his chair, 
spread his checked handkerchief over his face, to serve, as I 
suppose, for the Grecian painter's veil, and from the action of 
his folded hjuids, appeared for a time ^gaged in the act of 
mental thanksgiving. He then raised his eyes over the sci:Ben, 
as if to be assured that the pleasing apparition had not melted 
into air — ^then again sunk them to resume an internal act of 
devotion, until he felt himself compelled to give attention to the 
counsellor, from the interest which his questions exdted.- 

" And now," said Mr. Pleydell, after several minute inquiries 
concerning his recollection of early events — "and now, Mr. 
Bertram, for I think we ought in future to caU you by your own 
proper name, will you have the goodness to let us know every 
particular which you can recollect, concerning the mode of your 
leaving Scotland?" 

" Indeed, sir, to say the truth, though the terrible outlines of 
that day are strongly impressed upon my memory, yet some- 
how the very terror which fixed .them there had in a great 
measure confounded and confused the details. I recollect, 
however, that I was walking somewhere or other — ^in a wood, I 
think" — — 

"0 yes, it was in Warroch-wood, my dear," said the 
Dominie. 

" HusH, Mr. Sampson," said the lawyer. 

" Yes, it was in a wood," continued Bert^['am, as long past 
and confused ideas arranged themselves in his reviving recoUeo- 
tion ; " and some one was with me — ^this worthy and affectionate 
gentleman, I think." 

" 0, ay, ay, Harry, Lord bless thee — ^it was even I myself." 

" Be silent, Dominie, and don't interrupt the evidence," said 
Pleydell. — "And so, sir?" to Bertram. 



GUY MANNEKING. 371 

"And so, sir," continued Bertram, "like one of the changea 
of a dream, I thought I was on horseback before my guide." 

" No, no," exclaimed Sampson, " never did I put my own 
limbs, not to say thine, into such periL" 

" On my word, this is intolerable . — ^Look ye, Dominie, if you 
speak another word till I give you leave, I will read three 
sentences out of the Black Acts, whisk my cane round my head 
three times, undo all the magic of this night's work, and conjure 
Harry Bertram back again into Vanbeest Brown." 

" Honoured and worthy sir," groaned out the Dominie, " I 
humbly crave pardon ; it was but verbvm nolens" 

"Well nolens volens, you must hold your tongue," said 
PleydelL 

" Pray, be silent, Mr. Sampson," said the Colonel ; " it is of 
great conse<juence to your recovered fidend, that you permit Mi, 
PleydeU to proceed in his iaquiries." 

" I am mute," said the rebuked Donunie. 

"On a sudden," continued Bertram, "two or tliree .men 
sprung out upon us, and we were pulled from horseback. I have 
little recollection of anything else, but that I tried to escape in 
the midst of a desperate scuffle, and feU into the arms of a very 
tall woman who started from the bushes, and protected me for 
some time ; the rest is all confusion and dread — a dim recollec- 
tion of a sea-beach and a cave, and of some strong potion which 
lulled me to sleep for a length of time. In short, it is all a 
blank in my memory, until I recollect myself first an iU-used 
and half-starved cabiQ-boy aboard a sloop, and then a school- 
boy in Holland, under the protection of an old merchant, who 
had taken some fancy for me." 

" And what account, said Mr. Pleydell, " did your guardian 
give of your parentage ^» 

" A very brief one," answered Bertram, " and a charge to 
inquire no farther. I was given to understand, that my father 
was concerned in.the smuggling trade carried on on the eastern 
coaat of Scotland, and was killed in a skirmish with the revenue 
officers ; that his correspondents in Holland had a vessel on the 
coast at the time, part of the crew of which were engaged in the 
affair, and that they brought me off after it was over, from a 
motive of compassion, as I was left destitute by my father's 
death. As I grew older, there was much of this story seemed 
inconsistent with my own reoolleetions. But what could I dol 



372 * WAVEKLEY NOVELS. 

I had no means of ascertaining my doubts, nor a single friend 
with whom I could communicate or canvass them. The rest 
of my stoiry is known to Colonel Mannering : I went out to 
India to.be a clerk in a Dutch house; their affairs fell into 
confusion; I betook myself to the military profession, and, I 
trust, as yet I have not disgraced it." 

" Thou art a fine young fellow, I'll be bound for thee," said 
Pleydell ; " and since you have wanted a father so long, I wish 
from my heart I could claim the paternity myself. But this 
affair of young Hazlewood" 

" Was merely accidental," said Bertram. " I was travelling 
in Scotland for pleasure, and after a week's residence with my 
friend Mr. Dinmont, with whom I had the good fortune to form 
an accidental acquaintance" 

" It was my gude fortune that," said Dinmont. " Od, my 
brains wad hae been knockit out by twa blackguards, if it hadna 
been for his four quarters." 

" Shortly after we parted at the town of — = — , I lost ray 
baggage by thieves, and it was while residing at Kippletringan 
that I accidentally met the young gentleman. As I was 
approaching to pay my respects to Miss Mannering, whom I 
had known in India, Mr. Hazlewood, conceiving my appearance 
none of the most resx)ectable, commanded me rather haughtily 
to stand back, and so gave occasion to the fray in which I had 
the misfortune to be the accidental means of wounding him — 
And now, sir, that I have answered all your questions" 

" No, no, not quite all," said Pleydell, winking sagaciously ; 
" there are some interrogatories which I shall delay till to-morrow, 
for it is time, I believe, to close the sederunt for this night, or 
rather morning." 

"Well, then, sir," said the young. man, "to vary the phrase, 
since I have answered all the questions which you hav& chosen 
to ask to-night, will you be so good as to tell me who you are 
that take such interest in my affairs, and whopi you take me to 
be, since my arrival has occasioned such commotion V\ 

" Why, sir, for myself," replied the counsellor, " I am PauLus 
Pleydell, an advocate' at the Scottish bar ; and for you, it is 
not easy to say distinctly who you are at present ; but I trust 
ui a short time to hail you by lie title of Henry Bertram, Esq., 
representative of one of the oldest families in Scotland, and heii 
of tailzie and provision to the estate of Ellangowan. Ay," con 



r - 



GUY MAl^NERING. 373 

tiDued he, shutting his eyes and speaking to himself, '^we 
must pass over his father, and serve him heir to his grandfather 
Lewis, the entailer, the only wise man of his family that I ever 
heard of!" 

They had now risen to retire to their apartments for the 
night, when Colonel Mamiering walked up to Bertram, as he 
stood astonished at the counsellor's words. " I give you joy," 
he said, "of the prospects "which fate has opened before you. 
I was an early fidend of your father, and chanced to be in the 
house of Ellangowan as unexpectedly as you are now in miae, 
upon the very night on which you were bom. I little knew 
this circumstance when — but I trust unMndness will be for- 
gotten between us. Believe me, your appearance here, as Mr. 
Brown alive and well, has relieved me fix)m most painful 
sensations ; and your right to the name of an old friend renders 
your presence, as Mr. Bertram, doubly welcome." 

"And my parents !" said Bertram. 

" Are both no more — ^and the family property has been sold, 
but I trust may be recovered. Whatever is wanted to make 
your right eflfectual, I shall be most happy to supply." 

" Nay, you may leave all that to me," said the counsellor ; — 
" 'tis my vocation, Hal, I shall make money of it." 

" Fm ■ sure it's no for the like o' me," observed Dinmont, 
" to speak to you gentlefolks ; but if siller would help on the 
Captain's plea, and they say nae plea gangs on weel without 
it"^ 

" Except on Saturday night," said PleydeU. 

" Ay, but when your honour wadna take your fee, ye wadna 
hae the cause neither; sae I'U ne'er fa^h you on a Saturday 
at e'en again — But I was saying there's some siller in the 
spleuchan * that's like the Captain's ain, for we've aye counted 
it such, baith Ailie and me." 

"No, no, Liddesdale — ^no occasion, ho occasion whatever — 
keep thy cash to stock thy farm." 

"To stock my farm? Mr. PleydeU, your honoiu: kens mony 
things, but ye dinna ken the farm o' Charlies-hope — ^i.fs sae 
vreel stockit already, that we sell maybe sax hundred pounds 
off it Uka year, flesh and fell thegither — ^na, na." 

" Can't you take another, then ?" . 

" I dinna ken — the Deuke's no that fond o' led farms, and 
* A gplenchan is a tobacco-pouch, occasionally iLsed as a pnrse. 



374 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

he canna bide to put away the auld tenantry ; and then I wadna 
like, mysell, to gang about whistling* and laiBing the rent on 
my neighbours." 

" What, not upon thy neighbour at Bawston — ^DevOstone — 
how d'ye call the place 1" 

"What, on Jock o' Dawston? — ^hout an — ^he's a camsteaiyt 
chield, and fiaisheous:}: about marches, and we've had some bits 
o* splores thegither; but deil o* me if I would wrang Jock o* 
Dawston neither." 

" Thou*rt an honest fellow," said the lawyer ; " get thee to 
bed ; — ^thou wilt sleep sounder, I warrant thee, than many a man 
that throws off an embroidered coat, and puts on a laced night- 
cap. Colonel, I see you are busy with our Enfcmt trawoi. 
But Barnes must give me a summons of wakening at seven to- 
morrow morning, for my servant's a sleepy-headed fellow, and 
I dare say my derk. Driver, has had Clarence's fate, and is 
drowned by this time in a butt of your ale ; for Mrs. Allan 
promised to make him comfortable, and she'll soon discover 
what he expects from that engagement. Grood-night, Colonel — 
good-night. Dominie Sampson — ^good-night, Dinmont the down: 
right — ^good-night, last of all, to the new-found representative 
of the Bertrams, and the Mac-Dingawaies, the Knarths, the 
Arths, the Godfreys, the Dennises, and the Rolands, and, last, 
and dearest title, heir of tailzie and provision of the lands and 
barony of Ellangowan, under the settlement of Lewis Bertram, 
Esq., whose representative you are." 

And so saying, the old gentleman took his candle and left 
the room; and the company dispersed, after the Dominie had 
once more hugged and embraced his " little Harry Bertram," 
as he continued to call the young soldier of six feet high. 

* Whistling, among the tenantry of a large estate, is when an individual 
gives such information to the proprietor, or his managers, as to occasion the 
rent of his neighbonr's farms being raised, which, for obvious reasons, is 
held a very unpopular practice. 

f Obstinate and nnndy. X TroubLesoxae. 



OUT MANKEBING. 875 



CHAPTER FIFTY-FIRST. 



My imagination 



Carries no favour in it but Bertram's ; 
I am undone ; there is no living, none, 
If Bertram be aWay. 

All's well that Ends well. 

At the hour which he had appointed the preceding evening, 
the indefatigable lawyer was seated by a good fire and a pair of 
wax candles, with a velvet cap on his head and a quilted silk 
night-gown on his person, busy arranging his mmioranda of 
proofs and indications concerning the murder of Frank Kennedy. 
An express had also * been despatched to Mr. Mac-Morlan^ 
requesting his attendance at Woodboume as soon as possible, 
on business of importance. Dinmont, fatigued with the events 
of the evening before, and finding the accommodations of 
Woodboume much preferable to those of Mac-Guffog, was in no 
hurry to rise. The impatience of Bertram might have put him 
earlier in motion, but Colonel Mannering had intimated an 
intention to visit him in his apartment in the morning, and he 
did not choose to leave it. Before this interview he had dressed 
himself, Barnes having, by his master's orders, supplied him 
with every accommodation of linen, etc., and he now anxiously 
waited the promised visit of his landlord. 

In a short time a gentle tap announced the Colonel, with 
whom Bertram held a long and satisfactory conversation. Each, 
however, concealed firom the other one circumstance. MannCTing 
could not bring himself to acknowledge the astrological predic- 
tion ; and Bertram was, from motives which may be easily 
conceived, silent respecting his love for Julia. ' In other respects, 
their intercourse was frank, and grateful to both, and had 
latterly, upon the Colonel's part, even an approach to cordiality. 
Bertram carefuUy measured his own conduct by that of his 
host, cmd seemed rather to receive his offered kindness with 
gratitude and pleasure, than to press for it with solicitation. 

Miss Bertram was in the breakfast parlour when Sampson 
shuffled in, — ^his face all radiant with smiles ; a circumstance 
so uncommon, that Lucy's first idea was, that somebody had 
been bantering him with an imposition which had thrown him 



376 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

iato this ecstasy. Haying sate for some time, rolling his eyes 
and gaping with his mouth like the great wooden head at 
Merlin's exhibition, he at length b^gan — "And what do you 
think of him, Miss Lucy V 

" Think of whom, Mr. Sampson ?" asked the young lady. 

"Of Har — ^no — of him that you know about?" again de- 
manded the Dominie. 

" That I know about ?" replied Lucy, totally at a loss to 
comprehend his meaning. 

" Yes — the stranger, you know, that came last evening in 
the post vehicle — ^he who shot young Hazlewood — ^ha ! ha ! ho !** 
burst forth the Dominie, with a laugh that sounded like 
neighing. 

" Indeed, Mr. Sampson," said his pupil, " you have chosen a 
strange subject for mirth ; — ^I think nothing about the man — 
only I hope the outrage was accidental, and that we need not 
fear a repetition of it." 

" Accidental ! — ^ho ! ho ! ha !" again whinnied Sampson. 

" Really, Mr. Sampson," said Lucy, somewhat piqued, " you 
are unusually gay this morning." 

" Yes, of a surety I am ! ha ! ha ! ho 1 farce-ti-ous — ho ! 
ho ! ha !" 

" So unusually facetious, my dear sir," pursued the young 
lady, " that I would wish rather to know the meaning of your 
mirth, than to be amused with its effects only." 

" You shall know it, Miss Lucy," repHed poor Abel — " Do 
you remember your brother ?" . 

" Good God ! how can you ask me ? — ^no one knows better 
than you, he was lost the very day I was bom." 

" Very true, very true," answered the Dominie; saddening at 
the recollection ; " I was strangely oblivious — ay, ay — ^too true 
—But you remeniber your worthy father?" 

" How should you doubt it, Mr. Sampson 1 it is. not so many 
weeks since" 

" True, true — ay, too true," replied the Dominie, his 
Houyhnhnm laugh sinking into a hysterical giggle^" I will be 
facetious no more under these remembrances — But look at that 
young man !" 

Bertram at this instant entered the room. " Yes, look at him 
well — ^he is your father's living image ; and as God has deprived 
you of your dear parents-^O miy children, love one another I" 



GTJT MANNERING. 877 

" It is indeed my father's face and form," said Lucy, turning 
very pala Bertram ran to support her — ^the Dominie to fetch 
water to throw upon her face — (which in his haste he took from 
the boiling tea-um)— when fortunately her colour returning 
rapidly, saved her from the application of this ill-judged remedy. 
"I conjure you to tell me, Mr. Sampson," she said, in an in 
terrupted yet solemn voice, " is this my brother ?" 

" It is ! it is. Miss Lucy ! — ^it is little Harry Bertram, as sure 
as God's sun is in that heaven I" 

''And this is my sister!" said Bertram, giving way to all 
that family affection which had so long slumbered in his bosom 
for want of an object to expand itself .upon. 

"It is! it is! — ^it is Miss Lucy Bertram!" ejaculated 
Sampson, " whom by my poor aid you wiU find perfect in the 
tongues of France and Italy, and even of Spain — ^in reading and 
writing her vernacular tongue, and in arithmetic and book-keep- 
ing by double and single entry. I say nothing of her talents 
of shaping, and hemming, and governing a household, which, to 
give every one their due, she acquired not from me, but from the 
housekeeper; — nor do I take merit for hier performance upon 
stringed mstruments, whereunto the instructions of an honour- 
able yoimg lady of virtue and modesty, and very facetious 
withal — ^Miss Julia Mannering — hath not meanly contributed — 
Smji/m cmqiie iribmto" 

" You, then," said Bertram to his sister, " are aU that remains 
to me ! Last night, but more frdly this morning, Colonel Man- 
nering gave me an account of our family misfortunes, though 
without saying I should find my sister here." 

" That," said Lucy, " he left to this gentleman to tell you, — 
one of the kindest and most faithful of friends, who soothed my 
father's long sickness, witnessed his dying momenta, aad amid 
the heaviest clouds of fortune would not desert his orphan." 

" God bless him for- it !" said Bertram, shaking the Dominie's 
hand ; " he deserves the love with which I have always regarded 
even that dim and imperfect shadow of his memory which my 
childhood retained." 

" And God bless you both, my dear children !" said Sampson : 
" if it had not been for your sake, I would have been contented 
(had Heaven's pleasure so been) to lay my head upon the turf 
beside my patron." 

" But I trust," said Bertram — " I am encouraged to hope, we 



378 WAVEKLEY NOVELS. 

Bhall all see better days. All our "wrongB shall be redressed, 
since heayen has sent me means and friends to assert my 
right." 

''Friends indeed!" echoed the Dominie, ''and sent, as you 
truly say, by Him, to whom I early taught you to look up as 
the source of all that is good. There is the great Colonel 
Mamiering from the Eastern Indies, a man of war from his 
birth upwards, but who is not the less a man of great erudition, 
considering his imperfect opportunities ; and there is, moreoyer, 
the great adyocate, Mr. Pleydell, who is also a man of great 
erudition, but who descendeth' to trifles unbeseeming thereof; 
and there is Mr. Andrew Dinmont, whom I do not imderstand 
to haye possession of much erudition, but who, like the patri- 
archs of oh], is cunning in that which belongeth to flocks and 
herds. Lastly, there is eyen I myself, whose opportunities of 
collecting erudition, as they haye been greater than those of the 
aforesaid yaluable persons, haye not, if it becomes me so to 
speak, been pretermitted by me, in so far as my poor faculties 
haye enabled me to profit by them. Of a surety, little Harry, 
we must speedily resume our studies. I will begin from the 
foundation — ^yes, I will reform your education upward from the 
true knowledge of English grammar, eyen to that of the Hebrew 
or Chaldaic tongue." 

The reader may obserye, that upon this occasion- Sampson 
was infinitely more profuse of words than he had hitherto 
exhibited himself. The reason was, that in recoyering his pupil, 
his mind went instantly back to their original connection, and 
he had, in his confusion of ideas, the strongest desire in the 
world to resume spelling lessons and half-text with young 
Bertram. This was the more ridiculous, as towards Lucy he 
assumed no such powers of tuition. But she had grown up 
under his eye, and had been gradually emancipated from his 
goyemment by increase in years and knowledge, and a latent 
sense of his own inferior tact in manners, whereas his first 
ideas went to take up Harry pretty nearly where he had left 
him. From the same feelings of reyiving authority, he indulged 
himself in what was to him a profusion of language ; and as 
people seldom speak more than usual without exposing them- 
selyes, he gaye those whom he addressed plainly to understand, 
that while he deferred implicitly to the opinions and commands, 
if they chose to impose them, of almost eyery one whom he 



GUY MAUNERINa 379 

met with, it was under an internal conviction, that in the 
article of e-ru-di-ti-on, as he usually pronounced the word, he 
was infinitely superior to then) aU put together. At present, 
however, this intimation fell upon heedless ears, for the brother 
and sister were too deeply engaged in asking and receiving 
intelligence concerning their former fortunes, to attend much 
to the worthy Dominie. 

When Colonel Mannering left Bertram, he went to Julia's 
dressing-room, and dismissed her attendant. '^ My dear sir,'' 
she said as he entered, " you have forgot our vigils last night, 
and have hardly allowed me time to comb my hair, although 
you must be sensible how it stood on end at the various wonders 
which took place." 

" It is with the inside of your head that I have some busi- 
ness at present, Julia ; I will return the outside to the care of 
your Mrs. Mincing in a few minutes." 

" Lord, papa," replied Miss Mannering, " think how entangled 
all my ideas are, and you to propose to comb them out in a few 
minutes ! If Mincing were to do so in her department, she 
would tear half the hair out of my head." 

" Well then, teU me," said the Colonel, " where the entangle- 
ment lies, which I will try to extricate with due gentleness." 

" Oh, every where," said the young lady — " the whole is a 
wild dream." 

"Well then, I will try to unriddle it." — He gave a brief 
sketch of the fate and prospects of Bertram, to which Julia 
listened with an interest which she in vain endeavoured to dis- 
guise — " Well," concluded her father, " are your ideas on the 
subject more luminous?" 

" More confused than ever, my dear sir," said Julia — " Here 
is this young man come from India, after he had been supposed 
dead, lieAboulfouaris the great voyager to his sister Canzade 
and his provident brother Hour. I am wrong in the story, I 
believe — Canzade was his wife — ^but Lucy may represent the 
one, and the Dominie the other. And then this lively crack- 
brained Scotch lawyer appears like a pantomime at the end of 
a tragedy — ^And then how delightful it will be if Lucy gets 
back her fortune !" 

" Now I think," said the Colonel, " that the most mysterious 
part of the business is, that Miss Julia Mannering, who must 
have known her father's anxiety about the fate of this yoimg 



380 WAVEELEY NOVELS. 

man Brown, or Bertram, as we must now call him, Bhould haye 
m€t him when Hazlewood's accident took place, and never once 
mentioned to her father a word of the matter, but suffered the 
search to proc^d against this young gentleman as a suspicious 
character and assassin.'' 

Julia, much of whose courage had been. hastily assumed to 
meet the interview with her father, was now imable to rally 
nerself; she hung down her head in silence, after in vain 
attempting to utter a denial that she recollected Brown when 
she met him. 

" No answer ! — ^Well, Julia," continued her father, gravely 
but kindly, " allow me to ask you. Is tHis the only time you 
have seen Brown since his return from India 1 — Still no answer. 
I must then naturally suppose that it is not the first time ? — 
Still no reply. Julia Mannering, will you have the kindness 
to answer mel Was it this young man who came under 
your window and conversed with you during your residence at 
Mervyn-Hall ? Julia, I conmiand — I entreat you to be candid." 

Miss Mannering raised her head. "I have been, sir — I 
believe I am still very fooHsh ; — and it is perhaps more hard 
upon me that I must meet this gentleman, who has been, though 
not the cause ^itirely, yet the accomplice of my foUy, in your 
presence." — Here she made a full stop. 

'^I am to understand^ then," said Mannering, ^ that this was 
the author of the serenade at Mervyn-Hall V 

There was something in this allusive change of epithet that 
gave Julia a little more courage — " He was indeed, sir ; and if I 
am very wrong, as I have often thought^ I have some apology." 

''And what is that 1" answered the Colonel, speaking quick, 
and with something o( harshness. 

" I wUl not venture to name it, sir — ^but " — She opened a 
small cabinet, and put some letters into his hands; "I will 
give you these, that you may see how this intimacy began, and 
by whom it was encouraged." 

Mannering took the packet to the window — ^his pride forbade 
a more distant retreat. He glanced at some passages of the 
letters with an imsteady eye and an agitated mind. His stoi- 
cism, however, came in time to his aid — that philosophy, which 
rooted in pride, yet frequently bears the fruits of virtue. He 
returned towards his daughter with as firm an air as his feelings 
permitted him to assume. 



GUT MANKERINQ. 381 

" There is great apology for you, Julia, as far as I can judge 
firom a glance at these letters — ^you have obeyed at least one 
parent. Let us adopt the Scotch proverb the Dominie quoted 
the other day — 'Let bygones be bygones, and fair play for the 
future.' — I will never upbraid you with yoiir past want of confi- 
dence — do you judge of my future intentions by my actions, of 
which hitherto you have surely had no reason to complain. 
Keep these letters — ^they were never intended for my eye, and 
I would not willingly read -more of them than I have done, at 
your desire and for your exculpation. And now, are we friends 1 
or rather, do you understand me 1" 

'^0 my dear generous father," said Julia, throwing herself 
into his arms, ** why have I ever for an instant misunderstood 
you?" 

" No more of that, Julia," said the Colonel : " we have both 
been to. blame. He that is too proud to vindicate the affection 
and confidence which he conceives should be given without 
solicitation, must meet much, and perhaps deserved disappoint^ 
ment. It is enough that one deadest and most regretted member 
of my ifamily has gone to- the grave without knowing me ; let 
me not lose the confidence of a child, who ought to love me if 
she really loves herself." . 

"Oh! no danger — ^no fear!" answered Julia — ^^'let me but 
have your approbation and my own, and there is no rule you 
can prescribe so severe that I will not follow." 

" Well, my love," kissing her forehead, " I trust we shall not 
call upon you for anything too heroic. With respect to this 
young gentleman's addresses, I expect in the first place that all 
clandestine correspondence^ — which no young woman can enter- 
tam for a moment without lessening herself m her own eyes, 
and in those of her lover — I request, I say, that clandestine 
oorrespondence of every Jdnd may be given up, and that you will 
refer Mr. Bertram to me for the reason. You will naturally 
wish to know what is to be the issue of such a reference. In 
the first place, I desire to observe this young gentlenian's 
character more closely than circumstances, and perhaps my own 
pr^udices, have permitted formerly — I should also be glad to 
see his birth established. Not that I am anxious about his 
getting the estate of Ellangowan, though such a subject is held 
in absolute indifference nowhere except in a novel ; but certainly 
Henry Bertram, heir of Ellangowan, whether possessed of the 



382 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

propesrty of his ancestors or not, is a very diflerent person iTom 
Vanbeest Brown, the son of nobody at all. His fathers, Mr. 
Pleydell tells me, are distinguished in history as following the 
banners of their native princes, while our own fought at Cressy 
and Poictiers. In short, I neither give nor withhold my appro- 
bation, but I expect you will redeem past errors ; and as you 
can now unfortunately have recourse only to one i)arent, that 
you will show the duty of a child, by reposing that confidence 
in me, which I will say my inclination to make you happy 
renders a filial debt upon your part." 

The first part of this speech afiiscted Julia a good deal ; the 
comparative merit of the ancestors of the Bertrams and Manner- 
ings excited a secret smile ; but the conclusion was such as to 
soften a heart peculiarly open to the feelings of generosity. 
" No, my dear sir," she said, extending her hand, " receive my 
faith, that from this moment you shall be the first person con- 
suited respecting what shall pass in future between Brown — ^I 
mean Bertram — and me ; and that no engagement shall be 
undertaken by me, excepting what you shall immediately know 
and approve of. May I ask if Mr. Bertram is to continue a 
guest at Woodboume?" 

"Certainly," said the Colonel, "while his affairs render it' 
advisable." 

" Then, sir, you must be sensible, considering what is already 
past, that he will expect some reason for my withdrawing — I 
believe I must say the encouragement, which he may think I 
have given!" 

" I expect, Julia," answered Mannering, " that he will respect 
my roof, and entertain some sense perhaps of the services I am 
desirous to render him, and so will not insist upon any course 
of conduct of which I might have reason to complain ; and I 
expect of you, that you will make him sensible of what is due 
to both." . 

" Then, sir, I understand you, and you shall be implicitly • 
obeyed." ^ 

" Thank you, my love; my anxiety" (kissing her) "is pi> 
your account. — Now wipe these witnesses from your eyes, and \ 
so to breakfest." 






N, 



GITY ICANNERma. S8d 



CHAPTER FIFTY-SECOND. 

And, Sheriff, I will engage my word to yon. 
That I will by to-morrow dinner time, 
Send him to answer thee, or any man, 
For any thing he shall he diarged withal. 

FmsT Pabt op Henbt IV, 

When the several by-plays, as they may be termed, had taken 
place among the indiyiduals of the Woodboume family, as we 
have intimated in the preceding chapter, the breakfast party at 
length assembled, Dandie excepted, who had consulted his taste 
in viands, and perhaps in society, by partaking of a cup of tea 
with Mrs. Allan, just laced with two tea-spoonsful of Cogniac, 
and reinforced with various slices from a huge round of beef. 
He had a kind of feeling that he could eat twice as much, and 
speak twice as much, with this good dame and Barnes, as with 
the grand folk in the parlour. Indeed, the meal of this less 
distinguished party was much more mirthful than that in the 
higher circle, & there was an obvious air.of constraint on 
the greater part of the assistants. Julia dared not raise her 
voice in asking Bertram if he chose another cup of tea. Bertram 
felt embarrassed while eating his toast and butter under the eye 
of Mannering. Lucy, while she indulged to the uttermost her 
affection for her recovered brother, began to think of the quarrel 
betwixt him and Hazlewood. The Colonel felt the painful 
anxiety natural to a proiid mind, when it deems its slightest 
action subject for a moment to the watchful construction of 
others. The lawyer, while sedulously buttering his roU, had an 
aspect of unwonted gravity, arising, perhaps, from the severity 
of his morning studies. As for the Dominie, his state of mind 
was ecstatic ! — He looked at Bertram— he looked at Lucy — he 
whimpered— he sniggled— he grinned— he committed all manner 
of solecisms in point of form — ^poured the whole cream (no un- 
lucky mistake) upon the plate of porridge which was his own 
usual break£gut — ^threw the s],op6 of what he called his '^ crowning 
dish of tea" into the sugar-dish instead of the slop-basin, and 
concluded with spilling the scalding liquor upon old Plato, the 
Colonel's favourite spaniel, who received the libation with a 
howl that did little honour to his philosophy. 



I 



L 



ZSi WAVEULEY NOVUiS. 

The Coloners equanimity was rather shaken by this last 
blunder. " Upon my word, my good friend, Mr. Sampson, you 
forget the difference between Plato and Zenocrates." 

" The former was chief of the Academics, the latter of the 
Stoics," said the Dominie, with some scorn of the supposition. 

" Yes, my dear sir, but it was Zenocrates, not Plato, who 
denied that pain was an evil." 

" I should have thought," said PleydeU, " that very respect- 
able quadruped, which is just now limping out of the room 
upon three of his four legs, was rather of the Cynic school." 

" Very well hit off But here comes an answer from Mao- 

Morlan." 

It was unfavourable. Mrs. Mac-Morlan sent her respectful 
compliments, and her husband had been, and was, detained by 
some alarming disturbances which had taken place the pre- 
ceding night at Portanferry, and the necesaaiy inv«tigation 
which they had occasioned. 

"What's to be done now, counsellor?" said the Colonel to 
Pleydell. 

"Why, I wish we could have seen Mac-Morlan," said the 
counsellor, "who is a sensible fellow himself, and would, be- 
sides, have acted under my advice. But there is little harm. 
Our friend here must be made mijvris: he is at present an 
escaped prisoner ; the law has an awkward claim iipon him — 
he must be placed rectus in cu/ria, — ^that is the .first object. 
For which purpose. Colonel, I Will accompany you in your 
carriage down to Hazlewood-House ;-^the distance is not great. 
We will offer our bail ; and I am confident I can easily show 
Mr. — ^ I beg his pardon — Sir Eobert Hadewood, the necessity 
of receiving it." 

, " With all my heart," said the Colonel ; and, ringing the 
bell, gave the necessary orders. "And what is next to be 
done?" 

" We must get hold of Mac-Morlan, and look out for more 
prQof." 

"Proof!" said the Colonel; "the -thing is as dear as day- 
light;— here are Mr. Sampson and Miss Bertram, and you 
yourself, at once recognise the young gentleman as his father's 
image ; and he himself recollects all the very peculiar circum- 
stances preceding his leaving this country — ^What else is neoea- 
sary to conviction 1" 



GUY MANNERING. 385 

''To moral conviction nothing more, perhaps/' said the 
experienced lawyer, "but for legal proof a great deal. Mr. 
Bertram's recollections are his own recollections merely; and 
therefore are not evidence in his own favour ; Miss Bertram, the 
learned Mr. Sampson, and I, can only say, what every one who 
knew the late EUangowan will readily agree in, that this 
gentleman is his very picture — But that will not make him 
Ellangowan's son, and give him the estate." 

" And what will do so ?" said the Colonel. 

" Why, we must have a distinct probation. — ^There are these 
gipsies, — ^but then, alas ! they are almost infamous in the eye oi 
law — scarce capable of bearing evidence, and Meg Merrilies 
utterly so, by the various accounts which she formerly gave of 
the matter, and her impudent denial of all knowledge of the 
fact when I myself examined her respecting it." 

" What must be done then ?" asked Mannering. 

" We must try," answered the legal sage, " what proof can 
be got at in Holland, among the persons by whom our young 
friend was educated. — But then the fear of being called in 
question for the murder of the ganger may make them silent ; 
or if they speak, they are either foreigners or outlawed smug- 
glers. In short, I see doubts." 

"Under favour, most learned and honoured sir," said the 
Dominie, " I trust He, who hath restored little Harry Bertram 
to his friends, will not leave his own work imperfect." 

" I trust so too, Mr. Sampson," said PleydeU ; " but we must 
use the means ; and I am afraid we shall have more difficulty 
in procuring them than I at first thought — But a faint heart 
never won a fair lady — ^And, by the way " (apart to Miss Man- 
nering, while Bertram was engaged with his sister), " there's a 
vindication of Holland for you !-^what smart fellows do you 
think Leyden and Utrecht must send forth, when such a very 
genteel and handsome young man comes from the paltry schools 
of Middleburgh ?" 

" Of a verity," said the Dominie, jealous of the reputation of 
the Dutch seminary — " of a verity, Mr. Pleydell, but I make 
it known to you. that I myself laid the foundation of his 
education." 

"True, my dear Dominie," answered the advocate; "that 
accounts for his proficiency in the graces, without question. — 
But here comes yotir carriage, Colonel Adieu, young folks; 

VOL. II. 2 c 



386 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

Miss Julia, keep your heart till I come back again — ^let there 
be nothing done to prejudice my right, whilst I am non vcUent 
agere" 

Their reception at Hazlewood-House was more cold and 
formal than usual ; for in general the Baronet expressed great 
respect for Colonel Mannering, and Mr. Pleydell, besides being 
a man of good family and of high general estimation, was Sir 
Robertas old friend. But now he seemed dry and embarrassed 
in his manner. " He would willingly," he said, " receive bail, 
notwithstanding that the offence had been directly perpetrated, 
committed, and done, against young Hazlewood of Hazlewood ; 
but the young man had given himself a fictitious description, 
and was altogether that sort of person who should not be 
liberated, discharged, or let loose upon society; and there- 
fore " 

" I hope. Sir Robert Hazlewood," said the Colonel, " you do 
not mean to doubt my word, when I assure you that he served 
under me as a cadet in India?" 

" By no means or account whatsoever. But you call him a 
cadet ; now he says, avers, and upholds, that he was a captain, 
or held a troop in your regiment." 

" He was promoted since I gave up the command." 

" But you must have heard of it ?" 

'^ No. I returned on account of family circumstances fi:om 
India, and have not since been solicitous to hear particular 
news fix)m the regiment ; the name of Brown, too, is so com- 
mon, that I might have seen his promotion in the Gazette 
without noticing it. But a day or two wiU bring letters from 
his commanding officer." 

" But I am told and informed, Mr. Pleydell," answered Sir 
Robert, still hesitating, '^ that he does not mean to abide by 
this name of Brown, but is to set up a claim to the estate of 
Ellangowan under the name of Bertram." 

" Ayl who says that?" said the counsellor. 

"Or," demanded the soldier, "whoever says so, does that 
give a right to keep him ia prison )" 

" Hush, Colonel," said the lawyer ; " I am sure you would 
not, any more than I, countenance him, if he prove an impostor, 
— ^And, among friends, who informed you of this, Sir Robert V* 

" Why, a person, Mr. Pleydell," answered the Baronet, " who 
is peculiai-ly interested in investigating, sifting, and clearing out 



GUY MANNERING. 387 

this business to the bottom — ^you will excuse my being more 
particular." 

" Oh, certainly," replied Pleydell ; — " well, and he says V* 

" He says that it is whispered about among tinkers, gipsies, 
and other idle persons, that there is such a plan as I mentioned 
to you, and that this young man, who is a bastard or natural 
son of the late EUangowan, is pitched upon as the impostor, 
from his strong family likeness." 

"And was there such a natural son, Sir Robert?" demanded 
the counsellor." 

" Oh, certainly, to my own positive knowledge. EUangowan 
had him placed as cabin-boy or powder-monkey on board an 
armed sloop or yacht belonging to the revenue, through the 
interest of the late Commissioner Bertram, a kinsman of his 
own." 

" Well, Sir Robert," said the lawyer, taking the word out of 
the mouth of the impatient soldier—" you have told me news ; 
I shall investigate them, and if I find them true, certainly Colonel 
Mannering and I will not countenance this young man. In the 
meanwhile, as we are all willmg to make him forthcoming, to 
answer all complaints against him, I do assure you you will 
act most iUegaUy, and iS,ur heavy responsibility, if you refuse 
our bail." 

" Why, Mr. PleydeU," said Sir Robert, who knew the high 
authority of the counsellor's opinion, " as you know best, and 
as you promise to give up this young man " 

" If he proves an impostor," repHed the lawyer, with some 
emphasis. 

" Ay, certainly — ^under that condition I will take your bail ; 
though I must say, an obliging, well-disposed, and civil neigh- 
bour of mine, who was himself bred to the law, gave me a hint 
or caution this morning against doing so. It was from him I 
learned that this youth was liberated, and had come abroad, or 
rather had broken prison. — But where shall we find one to draw 
the bail-bond 1" 

"Here," said the counsellor, applying himself to the beU, 
" send up my clerk, Mr. Driver — it wiU not do my character 
harm if I dictate the needful myself." It was written accord- 
ingly, and signed ; and the Justice having subscribed a regular 
warrant for Bertram alias Brown's discharge, the visitors took 
their leava 



888 WAYEHLBY NOVELS. 

Each threw himself into his own comer of the post^hariot, aad 
said nothing for some time. The Colonel first broke silence : " Sc 
you intend to give up this poor young feUaw at the first brush ?" 

" Who, IV* replied the counsellor ; " I will not give up one 
hair of his head, though I should foUow them to the court of 
last resort on his behalf — ^but what signified mooting points and 
showing one's hand to that old ass ? Much better he should 
report to his prompter, Glossin, that we are indifferent or luke- 
warm in the matter. Besides, I wished to have a peep at the 
enemies' game." 

"Indeed !" said the soldier. "Then I see there are strata- 
gems in law as well as war. Well, and how do you like their 
line of battle!" 

"Ingenious," said Mr. Pleydell, "but I think desperate; 
they are finessing too much — a common fault on such occasions." 

During this discourse the carriage rolled rapidly towards 
Woodboume without anything occurring worthy of the reader's 
notice, excepting their meeting with young Hazlewood, to 
whom the Colonel told the extraordinary history of Bertram's 
re-appearance, which he heard with high delight, and then rode 
on: before to pay Miss Bertram his compliments on an event so 
happy and so unexpected. 

We return to the party at Woodboume. After the departure 
of Mannering, the conversation related chiefly to the fortunes 
of the Ellangowan family, their domains, and their former 
power. " It was, then, under the towers of my fathers," said 
Bertram, " that I landed some days since, in circumstances much 
resembling those of a vagabond ? Its mouldering turrets and 
darksome arches even then awakened thoughts of the deepest 
interest, and recollections which I was unable to decipher. I 
will now visit them again with other feelings, and, I trust, other 
and better hopes." 

" Do not go there now," said his sister. " The house of our 
ancestors is at present the habitation of a wretch as insidious 
as dangerous, whose arts and villany accomplished the ruin and 
broke the heart of our unhappy father." 

" You increase my anxiety,'* replied her brother, " to confront 
this miscreant, even in the den he has constmcted for himself — 
I think I have seen him." 

" But you must consider," said Julia, " that you are now left 
under Lucy's guard and mine, and are responsible to us for aiO 



GITY MAITNERINO. 889 

your motionB — consider I have not been a lawyer's mistress 
twelve hours for nothing, and I assure you it would be madness 
to attempt to go to Ellangowan just now. — ^The utmost to which 
I can consent is, that we shall walk in a body to the head of 
the Woodboume avenue, and from that perhaps we may indulge 
you with our company as far as a rising ground in the conmion, 
whence your eyes may be blessed with a distant prospect of those 
gloomy tow^ers, which struck so strongly your sympathetic 
imagination/' 

The party was speedily agreed upon, and the ladies, having 
taken their cloaks, followed the route proposed, under the escort 
of Captain Bertram. It was a pleasant winter morning, and 
the cool breeze served only to freshen, not to chill, the fair 
walkers. A secret though unacknowledged bond of kindness 
combined the two ladies ; and Bertram, now hearing the inter- 
esting accounts of his own fanuly, now communicating his 
adventures in Europe and in India, repaid the pleasure which 
he received. Lucy felt proud of her brother, as well from the 
bold and manly turn of his sentiments, as from the dangers he 
had encountered, and the spirit with which he had surmounted 
fchem. And Julia, while she pondered on her father's words, 
could not help entertaining hopes, that the independent 
spirit which had seemed to her father presumption in the 
humble and plebeian Brown, would have the grace of courage, 
noble bearing, and high blood, in the far-descended heir of 
Ellangowan. 

They reached at length the little eminence or knoll upon the 
highest part of the conmion, called Gibbie's-knowe — a spot 
repeatedly mentioned in this history, as being on the skirts of 
the Ellangowan estate. It commanded a fair variety of hill and 
dale, bordered with natural woods, whose naked boughs at this 
season relieved the general colour of the landscape with a dark 
purple hue; while in other places the prospect was more 
formally intersected by lines of plantation, where the Scotch 
firs displayed their variety of dusky green. At the distance of 
two or three miles lay the bay of £31angowan, its waves rippling 
under the influence of the western breeze. The towers of the 
ruined castle, seen high over every object in the neighbourhood, 
received a brighter colouring from the wintry sun. 

''There," said Lucy Bertram, pointing them out in the 
distance, '' there is the seat of our ancestors. Grod knows, my 



390 WAVBRLEY NOVELS. 

dear brother, I do not covet in your behalf the extensive powei 
which the lords of these ruins are said to have possessed so long^ 
and sometimes to have used so ill. But^ that I might see 
you in possession of such relics of their fortune as should give 
you an honourable independence, and enable you to stretch 
your hand for the protection of the old and destitute dependants 
of our family, whom our poor father's death " 

" True, my dearest Lucy," answered the young heir of EUan- 
gowan ; " and I trust, with the assistance of Heaven, which has 
so far guided us, and with that of these good friends, whom 
their own generous hearts have interested in my behalf, such a 
consimmiation of my hard adventures is now not unlikely. — 
But as a soldier, I must look with some interest upon that 
worm-eaten hold of ragged stone; and if this undermining 
scoimdrel, who is now in possession, dare to displace a pebble of 
it" 

He was here interrupted by Dinmont, who came hastily 
after them up the road, unseen till he was near the party : — 
" Captain^ Captain ! ye're wanted — ^Ye*re wanted by her ye 
ken o\" 

And immediately Meg Merrilies, as if emerging out of the 
earth, ascended from the hollow way, and stood before them. 
" I sought ye at the house," she said, " and found but him," 
(pointing to Dinmont). " But ye are right," and I was wrang ; 
it is here we should meet — on this very spot, where my eyes 
last saw your father. Kemember your promise and follow me." 



CHAPTER FIFTY-THIRD 

To hail the king in seemly sort 

The ladie was full fain, 
But King Arthur, all sore amazed, 
No answer made again. 
" What wight art thou," the ladie said, 
" That will not speak to me ? 
Sir, I may chance to ease thy pain. 
Though I be foul to see." 

The Masbiage of Sm Gawadte. 

The faiiy bride of Sir Gawaine, while under the influence of the 
spell of her wicked stepmother, was more decrepit probably, and 
what is commonly called more ugly, than Meg Merrilies : but I 



GUY MANNERING. 391 

doubt if she posseRsed that wild sublimity which an excited im 
agination communicated to features, marked and expressive in 
their own peculiar character, and to the gestures of a form, which, 
her sex considered, might be termed gigantic. Accordingly, the 
Knights of the Bound Table did not recoil with more terror from 
the apparition of the loathly lady placed between " an oak and 
a green holly,'' than Lucy Bertram and Julia Mannering did from 
the appearance of this Galwegian sibyl upon the common of 
Ellangowan. 

" For God's sake," said Julia, pulling out her purse, " givo 
that dreadfdl woman something and bid her go away." 

^' I cannot/' said Bertram, " I must not offend her." 

''What keeps you here?" said Meg, exalting the harsh and 
rough tones of her hollow voice — " why do you not follow ? — 
Must your hour call you twice ? Do you remember your oath 1 
— ^were it at kirk or market, wedding or burial," — and she held 
high her skinny forefinger in a menacing attitude. 

Bertram turned round to his terrified companions. " Excuse 
me for a moment ; I am engaged by a promise to follow this 
woman." 

'' Good heavens ! engaged to a madwoman ?" said Julia. 

" Or to a gipsy, who has her band in the wood ready to mur- 
der you !" said Lucy. 

" That was not spoken like a bairn of Ellangowan," said M^, 
frowning upon Miss Bertram. ''Tt is the ill-doers are ill- 
dreaders." 

" In short, I must go," said Bertram — " it is absolutely neces- 
sary ; wait for me five minutes on this spot." 

" Five minutes ?" said the gipsy, — " five hours may not bring 
you here again." 

" Do you hear that?' said Julia; "for Heaven's sake do not go !" 

** I must, I must — Mr. Dinmont will protect you back to the 
house." 

" No," said Meg, " he must come with you — it is for that he 
is here. He maun take part wi' hand and heart ; and weel his 
part it is, for redding his quarrel might have cost you dear." 

" Troth, Luckie, it's very true," said the steady farmer ; " and 
ere I turn back frae the Captain's side I'll show that I haena 
forgotten't." 

" O yes !" exclaimed both the ladies at once — " let Mr. Din 
mont ^0 with you, if ero you must on this strange summons "' 



392 WAVEBLBY NOVELS. 

"Indeed I must," answered Bertram, "bat you see I am 
safely guarded — ^Adieu for a short time ; go home as &st as you 
can/' 

He pressed his sister's hand, and took a yet more affectionate 
farewell of Julia with his eyes. Almost stupified with surprise 
and fear, the young ladies watched with anxious looks the course 
of Bertram, his companion, and their extraordinary guide. Her 
tall figure moved across the wintry heath with steps so swift, so 
long, and so steady, that she appeared rather to glide than to 
walk. Bertram and Dinmont, both tall men, apparently scarce 
equalled her in height, owing to her longer dress and high head- 
gear. She proceeded straight across the common, without turn- 
ing aside to the winding path, by which passengers avoided the 
inequalities and little rills that traversed it in different directions. 
Thus the diminiRhing figures often disappeared from the eye, as 
they dived into such broken ground, and again ascended to sight 
when they were past the hollow. There was something frightful 
and unearthly, as it were, in the rapid and undeviating course which 
she pursued, undeterred by any of the impediments which usually 
incline a traveller from the direct path. Her way was as straight, 
and nearly as swift, as that of a bird through the air. At length 
they reached those thickets of natural wood which extended from 
the skirts of the common towards the glades and brook of Dem- 
deugh, and were there lost to the view. 

" This is very extraordinary !" said Lucy after a pause, and 
turning round to her companion — " What can he have to do with 
that old hag r 

" It is very frightful," answered Julia, " and almost reminds 
me of the tales of sorceresses, witches, and evil genii, which I 
have heard in India. They believe there is a fascination of the 
eye, by which those who possess it control the will and dictate 
the motions of their victims. What can your brother have in 
common with that fearful woman, that he should leave us. 
obviously against his will, to attend to her commands V* 

" At least," said Lucy, " we may hold him safe fix)m harm ; 
for she would never have summoned that faitliful creature Din- 
mont, of whose strength, courage, and steadiness Henry said so 
much, to attend upon an expedition where she projected evil to 
the person of his friend. And now let us go back to the house 
till the Colonel returns ; — perhaps Bertram may be back first : 
at any rate, the Colonel wiU judge what is to be dona" 



GUY MANNERING. 393 

Leaning then upon each other's arm,, but yet occasionally 
stumbling between fear and the disorder of their nerves, they at 
length reached the head of the avenue, when they heard the tread 
of a horse behind. They started, for their ears were awake to 
every sound, and beheld to their great pleasure young Hazlewood. 
" The Colonel will be here immediately," he said ; " I galloped 
on before to pay my respects to Miss Bertram, with the sincerest 
congratulations upon the joyful event which has taken place in 
her family. I long to be introduced to Captain Bertram, and to 
thank him for the well-deserved lesson he gave to my rashness 
and indiscretion." 

*^ He has left us just now," said Lucy, " and in a manner that 
has frightened us very much." 

Just at that moment the Colonel's carriage drove up, and, on 
observing the ladies, stopped, while Mannering and bis learned 
counsel alighted and joined them. They instantly communicated 
the new cause of alarm. 

^^ Meg Merrilies again !" said the Colonel. " She certainly is 
a most mysterious and unaccountable personage ; but I think she 
must have something to impart to Bertram, to which she does 
not mean we should be privy." 

*^ The devil take the be(Uamite old woman !" said the coun- 
sellor : " will she not let things take their course, protU de lege^ 
but must always be putting in her oar in her own way ? — Then 
I fear, from the direction they took, they are going upon the 
Ellangowan estate. That rascal Glossin has shown us what 
ruffians he has at his disposal — ^I wish honest Liddesdale may 
be guEurd sufficient." 

" If you please," said Hazlewood, " I should be most happy to 
ride in the direction which they have taken. I am so well known 
in the country, that I scarce think any outrage will be offered in 
my presence, and I shall keep at such a cautious distance as not 
to appear to watch Meg, or interrupt any communication which 
she may make." 

" Upon my word," said Pleydell (aside), " to be a sprig, whom 
I remember with a whey face and a satchel not so very many 
years ago, I think young Hazlewood grows a fine fellow. — ^I am 
more afraid of a new attempt at legal oppression than at open 
violence, and from that this young man's presence would deter 
both Glossin and his understrappers. Hie away then, my boy — 



394 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

peer out — ^peer out ; — ^you'll find them somewhere about Dern 
cleugh, or very probably in Warroch-wood/* 

Hazlewood turned his horse. " Come back to us to dinner, 
Hazlewood," cried the Colonel. He bowed, spurred his horse, 
and galloped off. 

We now return to Bertram and Dinmont, who continued to 
follow their mysterious guide through the woods and dingles, 
between the open common and the ruined hamlet of Demcleugh. 
As she led the way, she never looked back upon her followers, 
unless to chide them for loitering, though the sweat, in spite of 
the season, poured from their brows. At other times she spoke 
to herself in such broken expressions as these : — " It is to rebuild 
the auld house — ^it is to lay the comer-stone — and did I not warn 
him ? — I tell'd him I was bom to do it, if my father's head had 
been the stepping-stane, let alane his. I was doomed — still I 
kept my purpose in the cage and in the stocks ; — I was banished 
— I kept it in an unco land ; — I was scourged — I was branded 
— my resolution lay deeper than scourge or red iron could reach 
— and now the hour is come !" 

« Captain," said Binmont, in a half whisper, " I wish she 
bmna uncanny ! her words dinna seem to come in God's name, 
or like other folk's. Od, they threep in our country that there 
a/re sic things." 

" Don't be afraid, my friend," whispered Bertram in return. 

" Fear'd ! fient a haet care I," said the dauntless farmer ; 
" be she witch or deevil, it's a' ane to Dandie Dinmont." 

" Hand your peace, gudeman," said Meg, looking sternly 
over her shoulder ; " is this a time or place for you to speak, 
think ye?" 

" But my good friend," said Bertram, " as I have no doubt 
in your good faith or kindness, which I have experienced, you 
should in return have some confidence in me — I wish to know 
where you are leading us." 

" There's but ae answer to that, Henry Bertram," said the 
sibyl. — " I swore my tongue sho'ild never tell, but I never said 
my finger should never show. Go on and meet your fortune, 
or tum back and lose it — ^that's a' I hae to say." 

"Go on then," answered Bertram; "I will ask no more 
questions." 

They descended into the glen about the same place where 
Meg had formerly parted from Bertram. She paused an 



GUY MANNERING. 395 

instant beneath the tall rock where he had witnessed the burial 
of a dead body, and stamped upon the ground, which, not- 
withstanding all the care that had been taken, showed vestiges 
of having been recently removed. " Here rests ane," she said, 
" he'll maybe hae neibours sune." 

She then moved up the brook until she came to the ruined 
hamlet, where, pausing with a look of peculiar and softened 
interest before one of the gables which was still standing, she 
said, in a tone less abrupt, though as solemn as before. '' Do 
you see that blackit and broken end of a sheeling ? — There my 
kettle boiled for forty years — ^there I bore twelve buirdly sons 
and daughters — Where are they now ? — ^Where are the leaves 
that were on that auld ash-tree at Martinmas ! — ^the west wind 
has made it bare — and I'm stripped too. — ^Do you see that 
saugh-tree 1 — ^it's but a blackened rotten stump now — I Ve sat 
under it mony a bonnie summer afternoon, when it hung its gay 
garlands ower the poppling water — ^IVe sat there, and" (elevating 
her voice) " I've held you on my knee, Henry Bertram, and sung 
ye sangs of the auld barons and their bloody wars — It will ne'er 
be green again, and Meg Merrilies will never sing sangs mair, 
be they blithe or sad. But ye'U no forget her 1 — and ye'll gar 
big up the auld wa's for her sake? — and let somebody live 
there that's ower guid to fear them of another world — For il 
ever the dead came back amang the living, I'll be seen in this 
glen mony a night after these crazed banes are in the mould." 

The mixture of insanity and wild pathos with which she 
spoke these last words, with her right arm bare and extended, 
her left bent and shrouded beneath the dark red drapery of her 
mantle, might have been a study worthy of our Siddons herself. 
'* And now," she said, resuming at once the short, stem, and 
hasty tone which was most ordinary to her — "let us to the 
wark — let us to the wark." 

She then led the way to the promontory on which the Kaim 
of Demcleugh was situated, produced a large key jfrom her 
pocket, and unlocked the door. The interior of this place was 
in better order than formerly. " I have made things decent," 
she said ; " I may be streekit here or night. There will be few, 
few at Meg's lykewake, for mony of our folk will blame what I 
hae done, and am to do !" 

She then pointed to a table, upon which was some cold meat, 
arranged with more attention to neatness than could havft been 



396 WAVEELEY NOVBLS. 

expected from Meg*s habits. "Eat," she said, '"eat; — ^yeMl 
need it this right yet." 

Bertram, iu complaisance, ate a morsel or two ; and Dinmont, 
whose appetite was unabated either by wonder, apprehension, or 
the meal of the morning, made his usual figure as a trencher- 
man. She then offered each a single glass of spirits, which 
Bertram drank diluted, and his companion plain. 

" Will ye taste naething yoursell, Luckie?" said Dinmont. 

" I shall not need it," replied their mysterious hostess. " And 
now," she said, " ye maun hae arms — ^ye mauna gang on dry- 
handed; — but use them not rashly — take captive, but save 
life — let the law hae its ain — he maun speak ere he die." 

"Who is to be taken, who is to speak?" said Bertram in 
astonishment, receiving a pair of pistols which she offered him, 
and which, upon examining, he found loaded and locked. 

" The flints are gude," she said, " and the powder dry — I ken 
this wark weel." 

Then, without answering his questions, she armed Dinmont 
also with a large pistol, and desired them to choose sticks for 
themselves, out of a parcel of very suspicious-looking bludgeons 
which she brought &om a comer. Bertram took a stout sapling, 
and Dandle selected a club which might have served Hercules 
himself. They then left the hut together, and, in doing so, 
Bertram took an opportunity to whisper to Dinmont, " There's 
something inexplicable in all this — But we need not use these 
arms unless we see necessity and lawM occasion — ^take care to 
do as you see me do." 

Dinmont gave a sagacious nod ; and they continued to follow, 
over wet and over dry, through bog and through fallow, the 
footsteps of their conductress. She guided them to the wood of 
Warroch by the same track which the late Ellangowan had 
used when riding to Demcleugh in quest of his child, on the 
miserable evening of Kennedy's murder. 

When Meg Merrilies had attained these groves, through 
which the wintry sea-wind was now whistling hoarse and shrill, 
she seemed to pause a moment as if to recollect the way. " We 
maun go the precise track," she said, and continued to go 
forward, but rather in a zigzag and involved course, than 
according to her former steady and direct line of motion. At 
length she guided them through the mazes of the wood to a 
little open glade of about a quarter of an acre, surrounded by 



OX7T KAKNEBING. S97 

treeB and bushes, which made a wild and irregular boiindaiy. 
Even in winter it was a sheltered and snugly sequestered spot ; 
but when arrayed in the verdure of spring, the earth sending 
forth all its wild flowers, the shrubs spreading their waste of 
blossom around it, and the weeping birches, which towered 
over the underwood, drooping their long and leafy fibres to 
intercept the sun, it must have seemed a place for a youthful 
poet to study his earliest sonnet, or a pair of lovers to exchange 
their first mutual avowal of affection. Apparently it now 
awakened very different recollections. Bertram's brow, when 
he had looked round the spot, became gloomy and embarrassed. 
Meg, after uttering to herself, " This is the very spot !" looked 
at him with a ghastly side-glance, — "D'ye mind it?" 

"Yes !" answered Bertram, "imperfectly I do." 

"Ay !" pursued his guide, "on this very spot the man fell 
from his horse — I was behind that bourtree-bush at the very 
moment. Sair, sair he strove, and sair he cried for mercy — ^but 
he was in the hands of them that never kenn'd the word . — Now 
will I show you the further track — ^the last time ye travelled it 
was in these arms." 

She led them accordingly by a long and winding passage 
almost overgrown with brushwood, imtil, without any very 
perceptible descent, they suddenly found themselves by the 
sea-side. Meg then walked very fast on between the suif and 
the rocks until she came to a remarkable fragment of rock, 
detached from the rest. "Here," she said, in a low and 
scarcely audible whisper, " here the corpse was found." 

" And the cave," said Bertram, in the same tone, " is dose 
beside it — are you guiding us there 1" 

" Yes," said the gipsy in a decided tone. " Bend up both 
your hearts — ^follow me as I creep in — ^I have placed the fire- 
wood so as to screen you. Bide behind it for a gliff till I say 
The hov/r cmd the mem a/re hmth come I then rin in on him, 
take his arms, and bind him till the blood burst frae his finger- 
nails." 

"I will, by my soul!" said Heniy — "if he is the man I 
suppose — Jansen 1 " 

" Ay, Jansen, Hattendck, and twenty mair names are his." 

" Dinmont, you must stand by me now," said Bertram, " for 
this feUow is a devil" ^ '^ 

" Ye needna doubt that," said the stout yoeman — " But I 



398 WAVBRLEY NOVELS. 

wish I could mind a bit prayer or I creep after the witch into 
that hole that she's opening — It wad be a sair thing to leave 
the blessed sun, and the free air, and gang and be killed, like a 
tod that's run to earth, in a dungeon like that. But, my sooth, 
they will be hard-bitten terriers will worry Dandle; so, as 1 
said, deil hae me if I baulk you." This was uttered in the 
lowest tone of voice possible. The entrance was now open. 
M^ crept in upon her hands and knees, Bertram followed, and 
Dinmont, after giving a rueful glance toward the daylight, 
whose blessings he was abandoning, brought up the rear. 



CHAPTER FIFTY-FOURTH. 



Die, prophet, in thy speech ! 



For this, among the rest, was I ordained. 

Henbt VI., PaH TIT. 

The progress of the Borderer,^ who, as we have said, was the 
last of the party, was fearfully arrested by a hand, which 
caught hold of his leg as he dragged his long limbs after him 
in silence and perturbation through the low and narrow entrance 
of the subterranean passage. The steel heart of the bold yeo- 
man had well-nigh given way, and he suppressed with difficulty 
a shout, which, in the defenceless posture and situation which 
they then occupied, might have cost all their lives. He 
contented himself, however, with extricating his foot from the 
grasp of his unexpected follower. " Be still," said a voice be- 
hind him, releasing him ; ^^ I am a friend — Charles Hazlewood." 

These words were uttered in a very low voice, but they pro- 
duced sound enough to startle Meg Merrilies, who led the van, 
and who, having already gained the place where the cavern ex- 
panded, had risen upon her feet. She began, as if to confound 
any listening ear, to growl, to mutter, and to sing aloud, and at 
the same time to make a bustle among some brushwood which 
was now heaped in the cave. 

" Here — ^beldam — Deyvil*s kind," growled the harsh voice of 
Dirk Hatteraick from the inside of his den ; " what makest 
thou there ?" ' 



GUY MAKNERING. 399 

" Laying the roughies* to keep the cauld wind frae you, ye 
desperate do-nae-good — ^Ye*re e*en ower weel off, and wots na ; — 
it will be otherwise soon." 

" Have you brought me the brandy, and any news of my 
people?" said Diik Hatteraick. 

" There's the flask for ye. Your people — dispersed — ^broken 
— ^gone — or cut to ribbands by the red coats." 

" Der Deyvil ! — ^this coast is fatal to me." 

^^ Ye may hae mair reason to say sae." 

While this dialogue went forward, Bertram and Dinmont 
had both gained the interior of the cave, and assumed an erect 
poTtition. The only light which illuminated its rugged and 
sable precincts was a quantity of wood burnt to charcoal in an 
iron grate, such as they use in spearing salmon by night. On 
these red embers Hatteraick from time to time thre^ a handful 
of twigs or splintered wood ; but these, even when they blazed 
up, afforded a light much disproportioned to the extent of the 
cavern ; and, as its principal inhabitant lay upon the side of the 
grate most remote from the entrance, it was not easy for him to 
discover distinctly objects which lay in that direction. The in- 
truders, therefore, whose number was now augmented unex- 
pectedly to three, stood behind the loosely piled branches with 
little risk of discovery. Dinmont had the sense to keep back 
Hazlewood with one hand till he whispered to Bertram, "A friend 
— ^young Hazlewood." 

It was no time for following up the introduction, and they all 
stood as still as the rocks around them, obscured behind the 
pile of brushwood, which had been probably placed there to 
break the cold wind from the sea, without totally intercepting 
the supply of air. The branches were laid so loosely above each 
other, that, looking through them towards the light of the fire- 
grate, they could easily discover what passed in its vicinity, 
although a much stronger degree of illumination than it afforded 
would not have enabled the persons placed near the bottom of 
the cave to have descried them in the position which they 
occupied. 

The scene, independent of the peculiar moral iaterest and 
personal danger which attended it, had, from the effect of the 
light and shade on the uncommon objects which it exhibited, 
an appearance emphatically dismal. The light in the fire-grate 

* Withered boiu^ 



400 WATERLEY NOVELS. 

was the dark-red glare of charcoal in a state of ignition, relieved 
from time to time by a transient flame of a more vivid or 
duskier light, as the friel with which Dirk Hatteraick fed his 
fire was better or worse fitted for his purpose. Now a dark 
doud of stifling smoke rose up to the roof of the cavern, and 
then lighted into a reluctant and sullen blaze, which flashed 
wavering up the pillar of smoke, and waa suddenly rendered 
brighter and more lively by some drier fuel, or perhaps some 
splintered fir-timber, which at once converted the smoke into 
flame. By such fitfdl irradiation, they could see, more or less 
distinctly, the form of Hatteraick, whose savage and rugged 
cast of features, now rendered yet more ferocious by the circum- 
stances of his situation, and the deep gloom of his mind, assorted 
well with the rugged and broken vault which rose in a rude 
arch over and around him. The form of Meg Merrilies, which 
stalked about him, sometimes in the light, sometimes p^ially 
obscured in the smoke or darkness, contrasted strongly with 
the sitting figure of Hatteraick as he bent over the flame, and 
from his stationary posture was constantly visible to the specta- 
tor, while that of the female flitted around, appearing or dis- 
appearing like a spectre. 

Bertram felt his blood boil ait the sight of Hatteraick. He 
remembered him well under the name of Jansen, which the 
smuggler had adopted after the death of Kennedy ; and he 
remembered also, that this Jansen, and his mate Brown, the 
same who was shot at Woodboume, had been the brutal tyrants 
of his infancy. Bertram knew faither, from piecing his own 
imperfect recollections with the narratives of Mannering and 
Pleydell, that this man was the prime agent in the act of 
violence which tore him from his family and country, and had 
exposed him to so many distresses and dangers. A thousand 
exasperating reflections rose within his bosom; and he could 
hardly refrain from rushing upon Hatteraick and blowing his 
brains out. 

At the same time this would have been no safe adventure. 
The flame, as it rose and fell, while it displayed the strong, 
muscular, and broad-chested frame of the ruffian, glanced also 
upon two brace of pistols in his belt, and upon the hilt of his 
cutlass: it was not to be doubted that his desperation was 
commensurate with his personal strength and means of resist- 
ance. Bothy indeed, were inadequate to encounter the combined 



GUY MAKNERING. 401 

power of two such men as Bertram himself and his friend 
Dinmont, without reckoning their unexpected assistant Hazle- 
wood, who was unarmed, and of a slighter make ; but Bertram 
felt, on a moment's reflection, that there would be neither sense 
nor valour in anticipating the hangman's office, and he considered 
the importance of making Hatteraick prisoner alive ; — ^he there- 
fore repressed his indignation, and awaited what should pass 
between the ruffian and his gipsy guide. 

"An«i how are ye nowl" said the harsh and discordant 
tones of his female attendant: ''Said I not it would come 
upon you — ^ay, and in this very cave, where ye harboured after 
the deed 1" 

" Wetter and sturm, ye hag !" replied Hatteraick, " keep your 
deyvil's matins till they^re wanted. — ^Have you seen Glossin V* 

" No," replied Meg Merrilies ; " you've missed your blow, ye 
blood-apiller ! and ye have nothing to expect from the tempter." 

"Hagel !" exclaimed the ruffian, "if I had him but by the 
throat ! — ^And what am I to do then?" 

" Do ?" answered the gipsy ; — " die like a man, or be hanged 
like a dog !" 

" Hanged, ye hag of Satan ! — the hemp's not sown that shall 
hang me." 

*• It's sown, and it's grown, and it's heckled, and it's twisted. 
Did I not tell ye, when ye wad take away the boy Harry 
Bertram, in spite of my prayers— did I not say he would come 
back when he had dree'd his weird in foreign land till his 
twenty-first year 1 — did I not say the auld fire would bum down 
to a spark, but wad kindle again 1" 

" Well, mother, you did say so," said Hatteraick, in a tone 
that had something of despair in its accents ; " and donner and 
blitzen ! I believe you spoke the truth — ^that younker of EUan- 
gowan has been a rock a-head to me all my life ! — ^and now, 
with Glossin's cursed contrivance, my crew have been cut oflF, 
my boats destroyed, and I dare say the lugger's taken — there 
were not men enough left on board to work her, far less to fight 
lier — a dredge-boat might have taken her. — ^And what will the 
owners say ? — Hagel and sturm ! I shall never dare go back 
again to Mushing." 

" You'll never need," said the gipsy. 

"What are you doing there?" said her companion; "and 
what makes you say that ]" 

VOL. II. 2 D 



\ 



402 WAVBRLEY NOVELS. 

During this dialogue, Meg was heaping some flax loosely 
together. Before answer to this question, she dropped a fire- 
brand upon the flax, which had been previously steeped in some 
spirituous liquor, for it instantly caught fire, and rose in a vivid 
pyramid of the most brilliant light up to the very top of the 
vault. As it ascended, Meg answered the ruffian's question in a 
firm and steady voice : — " Beccmse the Hour^s comey cmd ike Man" 

At the appointed signal, Bertram and Dinmont sprung over 
the brushwood, and rushed upon Hatteraick. Hazlewood, 
unacquainted with their plan of assault, was a moment later. 
The ruffian, who instantly saw he was betrayed, turned his first 
vengeance on Meg Merrilies, at whom he discharged a pistoL 
She feu, with a piercing and dreadful cry, between the shriek 
of pain and the sound of laughter, when at its highest and most 
suffocating height. " I kenn'd it would be this way," she said. 

Bertram, in his haste, slipped his foot upon the uneven rock 
which floored the cave ; — a fortimate stumble, for Hatteraick's 
second buUet whistled over him with so true and steady an aim, 
that had he been standing upright, it must have lodged in his 
brain. Ere the smuggler could draw another pistol, Dinmont 
closed with him, and endeavoured by main force to pinion down 
his arms. Such, however, was the wretch's personal strength, 
joined to the efforts of his despair, that, in spite of the gigantic 
force with which the Borderer grappled him, he dragged Dinmont 
through the blaziag flax, and had almost succeeded in drawing 
a third pistol, which might have proved fatal to the honest 
farmer, had not Bertram, as well as Hazlewood, come to his 
assistance, when, by main force, and no ordinary exertion of it, 
they threw Hatteraick on the ground, disarmed him, and bound 
him. This scuffle, though it takes up some time in the narrative, 
passed in less than a single minute. When he was fairly 
mastered, after one or two desperate and almost convulsionary 
struggles, the ruffian lay perfectly stiQ and silent. " He's gaun 
to die game ony how," said Dinmont : '^ weel, I like him na the 
waur for that." 

This observation honest Dandie made while he was shaking 
the blazing flax from his rough coat and shaggy black hair, 
some of which had been singed in the scuffle. " He is quiet 
now," said Bertram ; — " stay by him, and do not permit him to 
stir till I see whether the poor woman be alive or dead." With 
Hazlewood's assistance he raised Meg Merrilies. 



GUY MANNERING. 403 

" I kenn'd it would be this way," she muttered, " and it's 
e'en this way that it should be." 

The ball had penetrated the breast below the throat. It diH 
not bleed much externally; but Bertram, accustomed to see 
gun-shot wounds, thought it the more alarming. " Good God 1 
what shall we do for this poor woman?" said he to Hazlewood, 
— ^the circumstances superseding the necessity of previous ex- 
planation or introduction to each other. 

" My horse stands tied above in the wood," said Hazlewood — 
" I have been watching you these two hours — I will ride off for 
some assistance that may be trusted. Meanwhile, you had better 
defend the mouth of the cavern against everyone until I return." 
He hastened away, Bertram, after binding Meg Merrilies's 
wound as well as he could, took station near the mouth of the 
cave with a cocked pistol in his hand ; Dinmont continued to 
watch Hatteraick, keeping a grasp, like that of Hercules, on his 
breast. There was a dead silence in the cavern, only interrupted 
by the low and suppressed moaning of the wounded female, and 
by the hard breathtug of the prisoner. 



CHAPTER FIFTYFIPTH. 

For though seduced and led astray 
Thou'st travelled far and wandered long, 

Thy Grod hath seen thee all the way, 
And all the turns that led thee wrong. 

The Hall of Justice. 

Afteb the space of about three quarters of an hour, which the 
uncertainty and danger of their situation made seem almost 
thrice as long, the voice of young Hazlewood was heard with 
out. " Here I am," he cried, " with a sufficient party." 

" Come in then," answered Bertram, not a little pleased to 
find his guard relieved, Hazlewood then entered, followed by 
two or three countrymen, one of whom acted as a peace-officer. 
They lifted Hatteraick up, and carried him in their arms as fai 
as the entrance of the vault was high enough to permit them ; 
then laid him on his back, and dragged him along as well as 
they could, for no persuasion would induce him to assist the 
trausportation by any exertion of his own. He lay as silent 



404 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

and inactive in their hands as a dead corpse, incapable of 
opposing, but in no way aiding their operations. When he was 
dragged into daylight, and placed erect upon his feet among 
three or four assistants, who had remained without the cave, he 
seemed stupified and dazzled by the sudden change from the 
darkness of his cavern. While others were superintending the 
removal of Meg Merrilies, those who remained with Hatteraick 
attempted to make him sit down upon a fragment of rock 
which lay close upon the high-water mark. A strong shuddering 
convulsed his iron frame for an instant, as he resisted their 
purpose. " Not there — Hagel 1 — ^you would not make me sit 
there ?" 

These were the only words he spoke; but their import, 
and the deep tone of horror in which they were uttered, served 
to show what was passing in his mind. 

When Meg Merrilies had also been removed from the cavern, 
with all the care for her safety that circumstances admitted, 
they consulted where she should be carried. Hazlewood had 
sent for a surgeon, and proposed that she should be lifted in 
the meantime to the nearest cottage. But the patient exclaimed 
with great earnestness, " Na, na, na ! — to the Kaim o' Dem- 
cleugh — ^the Kaim o' Demcleugh ; — ^the spirit will not free itself 
o' the flesh but there." < 

"You must indulge her, I believe," said Bertram; — "hei 
troubled imagination will otherwise aggravate the fever of the 
wound." 

They bore her accordingly to the vault. On the way her 
mind seemed to run more upon the scene which had just passed, 
than on her own approaching death. " There were three of them 
set upon him ; I brought the twasome — but wha was the third 1 
— It would be himsell returned to work his ain vengeance !" 

It was evident that the unexpected appearance of Hazlewood, 
whose person the outrage of Hatteraick left her no time to 
recognise, had produced a strong eflfect on her imagination. 
She often recurred to it. Hazlewood accounted for his unex- 
pected arrival to Bertram by saying that he had kept them 
in view for some time by "the direction of Mannering ; that, 
observing them disappear into the cave, he had crept after 
them, meaning to announce himself and his errand, when his 
hand in the darkness encountering the leg of Dinmont, had 
nearly produced a catastrophe, which, indeed, nothing but the 



GUY MANNEKING. 406 

presence of mind and fortitude of the bold yeoman could have 
averted. 

When the gipsy arrived at the hut, she produced the key ; 
and when they entered, and were about to deposit her upon the 
bed, she said in an anxious tone, " Na, na ! not that way — the 
feet to the east ;'' and appeared gratified when they reversed her 
posture accordingly, and placed her in that appropriate to a 
dead body. 

" Is there no clergyman near," said Bertram, " to assist this 
unhappy woman's devotions'?" 

A gentleman, the minister of the parish, who had been Charles 
Hazlewood's tutor, had, with many others, caught the alarm 
that the murderer of Kennedy was taken on the spot where the 
deed had been done so many years before, and that a woman 
was mortally wounded. From curiosity, or rather from the 
feeling that his duty called him to scenes of distress, this gentle- 
man had come to the Kaim of Demcleugh, and now presented 
himself. The surgeon arrived at the same time, and was about 
CO probe the wound ; but Meg resisted the assistance of either. 
" It's no what man can do, that wiU heal my body, or save my 
spirit. Let me speak what I have to say, and then ye may 
work your will — I'se be nae hinderance. But where's Henry 
Bertram?" — The assistants, to whom this name had been long 
a stranger, gazed upon each other. — "Yes!" she said, in a 
stronger and harsher tone, "I said Hemry Bertram of EUan- 
gowan. Stand from the light and let me see him." 

All eyes were turned towards Bertram, who approached the 
wretched couch. The wounded woman took hold of his hand. 
" Look at him," she said, " all that ever saw his father or his 
grandfather ; and bear witness if he is not their living image V* 
A murmur went through the crowd — ^the resemblance was too 
striking to be denied. " And now hear me — and let that man," 
pointing to Hatteraick, who was seated with his keepers on a 
sea-chest at some distance — " let him deny what I say, if he can. 
That is Henry Bertram, son to Godfrey Bertram, umquhile of 
Ellangowan ; that young man is the very lad-bairn that Dirk 
Hatteraick carried off from Warroch-wood the day that he 
murdered the ganger. I was there like a wandering spirit — for 
I longed to see that wood or we left the country. I saved the 
bairn's life, and sair, sair I prigged and prayed they would 
leave him wi' me — ^But they bore him away, and he's been lang 



406 WAVERLET NOVELS. 

ower the sea, and now he's come for his ain, and what should 
withstand him ? I swore to keep the secret till he was ane-an*- 
twenty — I kenn'd he behoved to dree his weird till that day 
cam — ^I keepit that oath which I took to them — ^but I made 
another vow to myseU, and if I lived to see the day of his 
return, I would set him in his fether's seat, if every step was on 
a dead man. I have keepit that oath too ; — ^I will be ae step 
raysell — ^he" (pointing to Hatteraick) "will soon be another, 
and there wiQ be ane mair yet." 

The clergyman now interposing, remarked it was a pity this 
deposition was not regularly taken and written down, and the 
surgeon urged the necessity of examining the woimd, previously 
to exhausting her by questions. When she saw them removing 
Hatteraick, in order to clear the room and leave the surgeon to 
his operations, she called out aloud, raising herself at the same 
time upon the couch, " Dirk Hatteraick, you and I will never 
meet again imtil we are before the judgment-seat — Will ye 
own to what I have said, or will you dare deny it?" — He 
turned his hardened brow upon her, with a look of dumb and 
inflexible defiance. " Dirk Hatteraick, dare ye deny, with my 
blood upon your hands, one word of what my dying breath is 
uttering 1" He looked at her with the same expression of 
hardihood and dogged stubbornness, and moved his lips, but 
uttered no sound. "Then fareweel!" she said, "and God 
forgive you 1 — ^your hand has sealed my evidence. When I was 
in life, I was the mad randy gipsy, that had been scourged, 
and banished, and branded — ^that had begged from door to door, 
and been hounded like a stray tike from parish to parish — ^wha 
would hao minded her tale ? But now I am a dying woman, 
and my words will not fall to the ground, any more than the 
earth will cover my blood !" 

She here paused, and all left the hut except the surgeon and 
two or three women. After a very short examination, he shook 
his head, and resigned his post by the dying woman's side to 
the clergyman. 

A chaise returning empty to Kippletringan had been stopped 
on the high-road by a constable, who foresaw it would be 
necessary to convey Hatteraick to jaiL The driver, under- 
standing what was going on at Demcleugh, left his horses to 
the care of a blackguard boy, confiding, it is to be supposed, 
rather in the years and discretion of the cattle, than in those 



GUT MANNERING. 407 

of their keeper, and set off full speed, to see, as he expressed 
himself, ^* whaten a sort o' fan was gaun on.'' He arrived just 
as the group of tenants and peasants, whose numbers increased 
every moment, satiated with gazing upon the ru^ed features 
of Hatteraick, had turned their att^tion towards Bertram. 
Almost all of them, especially the aged men who had seen 
Ellangowan in his better days, felt and acknowledged the 
justice of Meg Merrilies's appeal. But the Scotch are a 
cautious people ; — ^they remembered there was another in pos- 
session of the estate, and they as yet only expressed their 
feelings in low whispers to each other. Our Mend Jock Jabos, 
the postilion, forced his way into the middle of the circle ; but 
no sooner cast his eyes upon Bertram, than he started back in 
amazement, with a solemn exclamation, ''As sure as there's 
breath in man, it's auld Ellangowan arisen firon the dead !" 

This public declaration of an unprejudiced witness was just 
the spark wanted to give fire to the jwpular feeling, which 
burst forth in three distinct shouts : — " Bertram for ever !" — 
"Long life to the heir of Ellangowan !" — " God send him his 
ain, and to live among us as his forebears did of yore !" 

" I hae been seventy years on the land," said one person. 

" I and mine hae been seventy and seventy to that," said 
another ; " I have a right to ken the glance of a Bertram." 

" I and mine hae been three hundred years here," said another 
old man, " and I sail sell my last cow, but I'll see the young 
laird placed in his right." 

The women, ever delighted with the marvellous, and not less 
so when a handsome young man is the subject of the tale, added 
their shrill acclamations to the general all-hail. — " Blessings on 
him — ^he's the very picture o' his father ! — ^the Bertrams were 
aye the wale o' the country side I" 

" Eh ! that his puir mother, that died in grief and in doubt 
about him, had but lived to see this day !" exclaimed some 
female voices. 

"But we'll help him to his ain, kimmers," cried others; 
" and before Glossin sail keep the Place of Ellangowan, we'll 
howk him out o't wi' our nails !" 

Others crowded around Dinmont, who was nothing loth to 
tell what he knew of his Mend, and to boast the honour which 
he had in contributing to the discovery. As he was known to 
several of the principal formers present, his testimony afforded 



iOS WAVEKLEY NOVELS. 

an additioiial motive to the general enthusiaBm. In short, it 

was one of those moments of intense feeling, when the frost of 

the Scottish people melts like a snow-wreath, and the dissolving 

torrent carries dam and dyke before it. 

The sudden shouts interrupted the devotions of the clergyman ; 

and Meg, who was in one of those dozing fits of stupefaction 

that precede the close of existence, suddenly started — " Dinna 

ye hear? — dinna ye hear? — he's owned! — he*s owned! — I 

lived but for this. — I am a sinfu' woman; but if my curse 

brought it down, my blessing has taen it off ! And now I wad 

hae liked to hae said mair. But it canna be. Stay'' — she 

continued, stretching her head towards the gleam of light that 

shot through the narrow slit which served for a window — " Is 

he not there 1 — stand out o' the light, and let me look upon 

him ance mair. But the darkness is in my ain een," she said, 

sinking back, after an earnest gaze upon vacuity — "it's a' 

ended now. 

Pass breath, 
Come death ! " 

And, sinking back upon her couch of straw, she expired without 
a groan. The clergyman and the surgeon careftdly noted down 
all that she had said, now deeply regretting they had not 
examined her more minutely, but both remaining morally con- 
vinced of the truth of her disclosure. 

Hazlewood was the first to compliment Bertram upon the 
near prospect of his being restored to his name and rank in 
society. The people around, who had learned from Jabos that 
Bertram was the person who had wounded him, were struck 
with his generosity, and added his name to Bertram's in their 
exulting acclamations. 

Some, however, demanded of the postilion how he had not 
recognised Bertram when he saw him some time before at 
Kippletringan 1 — to which he gave the very natural answer — 
" Hout, what was I thinking about EUangowan then ? — It was 
the cry that was rising e'en now that the young laird was found, 
that put me on finding out the likeness. — There was nae missing 
it ance ane was set fc look Ibr't" 

The obduracy of Hatteraick, during the latter part of this 
scene, was in some slight degree shaken. He was observed to 
twinkle with his eyelids — ^to attempt to raise his bound hands 
for the purpose of pulling his hat over his brow — to look 



GUY MANNERING. 409 

angrily and impatiently to the road, as if anxious for the 
vehicle which was to remove him from the spot. — ^At length 
Mr. Hazlewood, apprehensive that the popular ferment might 
take a direction towards the prisoner, directed he should be 
taken to the post-chaise, and so removed to the town of Kipple- 
tringan, to be at Mr. Mac-Morlan's disposal ; at the same time he 
sent an express to warn that gentleman of what had happened. 
— " And now," he said to Bertram, " I should be happy if you 
would accompany me to Hazlewood-House ; but as that might 
not be so agreeable just now as I trust it will be in a day or 
two, you must allow me to return with you to Woodboume. 
But you are on foot." — " 0, if the young laird would take my 
horse !" — "Or mine" — "Or mine," said half a dozen voices — 
" Or mine ; he can trot ten mile an hour without whip or spur, 
and he's the young laird's frae this moment, if he likes to take 
him for a herezeld,* as they ca'd it lang syne." — Bertram readily 
accepted the horse as a loan, and poured forth his thanks to 
the assembled crowd for their good wishes, which they repaid 
with shouts and vows of attachment. 

While the happy owner waa directing one lad to " gae down 
for the new saddle;" another, "just to rin the beast ower wi' 
a dry wisp o' strae ;" a third, " to hie down and borrow Dan 
DunMeson's plated stirrups," and expressing his regret " that 
there was na time to gie the nag a feed, that the young laird 
might ken his mettle," — ^Bertram, taking the clergyman by the 
arm, walked into the vault, and shut the door immediately after 
them. He gazed in silence for some minutes upon the body 
of Meg Merrilies, as it lay before him, with the features sharp- 
ened by death, yet still retaining the stem and energetic 
character which had maintained in life her superiority as the 
wild chieftainess of the lawless people amongst whom she was 
bom. The young soldier dried the tears which involuntarily 
rose on viewing this wreck of one, who might be said to have 
died a victim to her fidelity to his person and family. He then 
took the clergyman's hand, and asked solemnly, if she appeared 
able to give that attention to his devotions which befitted a 
departmg person, 

* In the old feudal tenures, the herezeld constituted the best horse or 
other animal on the vassals' lands, which the law authorized the superior 
to claim. The only remnant of this custom is what is called the sasine, 
or a fee of certain estimated value, paid to the sheriff of the county who 
gives possession to the vassalp of the crown. 



410 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

*' My dear sir," said the good minister, " I trust this poor 
woman had remaining sense to feel and join in the import of my 
prayers. But let us humbly hope we are judged of by our 
opportunities of religious and moral instructioit In some 
degree she might be considered as an uninstructed heathen, 
even in the bosom of a Christian country ;— «nd let us remem- 
ber, that the errors and vices of an ignorant life were balanced 
by instances of disinterested attachment amounting almost to 
heroism. To Him, who can alone weigh our crimes and errors 
against our efforts towards virtue, we consign her with awe, 
but not without hope." 

" May I request," said Bertram, " that you will see every 
decent solemni^ attended to in behalf of this poor woman ? I 
have some property belonging to h^ in my hands— at all 
events, I will be answerable for the expense — ^You will hear of 
me at Woodboume." 

Dinmont who had been furnished with a horse by one of 
his acquaintance, now loudly called out that all was ready for 
their return; and Bertram and Hazlewood, after a strict ex- 
hortation to the crowd, which was now mcreased to several 
hundreds, to preserve good order in their rejoicing, as the least 
ungovemed zeal might be turned to the disadvantage of the 
young Laird, as they termed him, took their leave amid the 
shouts of the multitude. 

As they rode past the ruined cottages at Demcleugh, Din- 
mont said, " I'm sure when ye come to your ain. Captain, ye'll 
no forget to bigg a bit cot-house there 1 Deil be la me but I 
wad do't myseU, an it werena in better hands. I wadna like 
to live iu't though, after what she said. Od, I wad put in auld 
Elspeth, the bedrars widow — ^the like o' them's used wi* graves 
and ghaists, and thae things." 

A short but brisk ride brought them to Woodboume. The 
news of their exploit had already flown far and wide, and the 
whole inhabitants of the vicinity met them on the lawn with 
shouts of congratulation. "That you have seen me alive," 
said Bertram to Lucy, who first ran up to him, though Julia's 
eyes even anticipated hers, "you must thank these kind 
friends." 

With a blush expressuig at once pleasure, gratitude, and 
bashfulness, Lucy courtesied to Hazlewood, but to Dinmont she 
frankly extended her hand. The honest fanner, in the extra- 



GUY MANNERING. 411 

vagance of his joy, carried his freedom farther than the hint 
warranted, for he imprinted his thanks on the lady's lips, 
and was instantly shocked at the rudeness of his own conduct. 

" Lord sake, madam, I ask your pardon," he said ; " I forgot 
but ye had been a bairn o' my ain — ^the Captain's sae hamely, 
he gars ane forget himsell." 

Old Pleydell now advanced : " Nay, if fees like these are 
going," he said 

" Stop, stop, Mr. PleydeU," said Julia, " you had your fees 
beforehand — ^remember last night." 

" Why, I do confess a retainer," said the barrister ; " but if 
I don't deserve double fees from both Miss Bertram and you 
when I conclude my examination of Dirk Hatteraick to mor- 
row — Gad, I will so supple him ! — You shall see, Colonel, and 
you, my saucy Misses, though you may not see, shall hear." 

" Ay, that's if we choose to listen, counsellor," replied Julia. 

" And you think," said Pleydell, " it's two to one you won't 
choose that 1 But you have curiosity that teaches you the use 
of your ears now and then." 

" I declare, counsellor," answered the lively damsel, " that 
such saucy bachelors as you would teach us the use of our 
fingers now and then." 

"Reserve them for the harpsichord, my love," said the 
counsellor — " Better for all parties." 

While this idle chat ran on, Colonel Mannering introduced 
to Bertram a plain good-looking man, in a grey coat and waist- 
coat, buckskin breeches, and boots. "This, my dear sir, is 
Mr. Mac-Morlan." 

" To whom," said Bertram, embracing him cordially, " my 
sister was indebted for a home, when deserted by aU her natural 
friends and relations." 

The Dominie then pressed forward, grinned, chuckled, made 
a diabolical sound in attempting to whistle, and finally, unable 
to stifle his emotions, ran away to empty the feelings of his 
heart at his eyes. 

We shall not attempt to describe the expansion of heart and 
glee of this happy evening. 



412 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 



CHAPTER FIFTY-SIXTH. 



How like a hatefal ape. 



Detected grinniiig 'midst his pilfered hoard, 
A cmming man appears, whose secret frauds 

Are opened to the day 1 

CJouNT Basil. 

These was a great movement at Woodboume early on the 
following morning, to attend the examination at Kippletringan. 
Mr. Pleydell, from the investigation which he had fonnerly 
bestowed on the dark affair of Kennedy's death, as well as from 
the general deference due to his professional abilities, was 
requested by Mr. Mac-Morlan and Sir Robert Hazlewood, and 
another justice of peace who attended, to take the situation of 
chairman, and the lead in the examination. Colonel Mannering 
was invited to sit down with them. The examination, being 
previous to trial, was private in other respects. 

The counsellor resumed and re-interrogated former evidence. 
He then examined the clergyman and surgeon respecting the 
dying declaration of Meg Merrilies. They stated, that she 
distinctly, positively, and repeatedly, declared herself an eye- 
witness of Kennedy's death by the hands of Hatteraick, and 
two or three of his crew ; that her presence was accidental ; 
that she believed their resentment at meeting him, when they 
were in the act of losing their vessel through the means of his 
information, led to the commission of the crime ; that she said 
there was one witness of the murder, but who refused to parti- 
cipate in it, still alive, — ^her nephew, Gabriel Faa ; and she had 
hinted at another person who was an accessory after, not before, 
the fact; but her strength there failed her. They did not 
forget to mention her declaration, that she had saved the child, 
and that he was torn from her by the smugglers, for the purpose 
of carrying him to Holland — ^All these particulars were care- 
fully reduced to writing. 

Dirk Hatteraick was then brought in, heavily ironed ; for he 
had been strictly secured and guarded, owing to his former 
escape. He was asked his name ; he made no answer : — ^His 
profession ; he was silent : — Several other questions were put ; 
to none of which he returned any reply. P]<iydell wiped the 



GUY MANNERING. 413 

glasses of his spectacles, and considered the prisoner very atten- 
tively. "A very truculent-looking fellow," he whispered to 
Mannering ; " but, as Dogberry says, I'll go cunningly to work 
with him. — ^Here, call in Soles — Soles the shoemaker. — Soles, do 
you remember measuring some footsteps imprinted on the mud at 

the wood of Warroch, on November 17 — , by my orders 1" 

Soles remembered the circumstance perfectly. — " Look at that 
paper — is that your note of the measurement 1 " Soles verij&ed the 
memorandimi. — " Now, there stands a pair of shoes on that table ; 
measure them, and see if they correspond with any of the marks 
you have noted there." The shoemaker obeyed, and declared, 
" that they answered exactly to the largest of the foot-prints." 

" We shall prove," said the counsellor, aside to Mannering, 
"that these shoes, which were found in the ruins at Dem- 
cleugh, belonged to Brown, the fellow whom you shot on the 
lawn at Woodboume. — Now, Soles, measure that prisoner's 
feet very accurately." 

Mannering observed Hatteraick strictly, and could notice a 
visible tremor. " Do these measurements correspond with any 
of the foot-prints 1" 

The man looked at the note, then at his foot-rule and 
measure — ^then verified his former measurement by a second. 
" They correspond," he said, " within a hair-breadth, to a foot- 
mark broader and shorter than the former." 

Hatteraick's genijzs here deserted him — "Der deyvil!" he 
broke out, " how could there be a foot-mark on the ground, 
when it was a frost as hard as the heart of a Memel log ?" 

"In the evening, I grant you. Captain Hatteraick," said 
Pleydell, " but not in the forenoon — ^Will you favour me with 
information where you were upon the day you remember so 
exactly 1" • 

Hatteraick saw his blunder, and again screwed up his hard 
features for obstinate silence. — "Put down his observation, 
however," said Pleydell to the clerk. 

At this moment the door opened, and, much to the surprise 
of most present, Mr. Gilbert Glossin made his appearance. 
That worthy gentleman had, by dint of watching and eaves- 
dropping, ascertained that he was not mentioned by name in 
Meg Merrilies's dying declaration — a, circumstance certainly not 
owing to any favourable disposition towards him, but to the 
delay of taking her regular examination, and to the rapid 



414 WAVEELBY NOVELS. 

approach of death. He therefore supposed himself safe from 
all evidenoe but such as might arise from Hatteraick's confes- 
sion ; to prevent which, he resolved to push a bold face, and 
join his brethren of the bench during his examination. — "I 
shall be able,'' he thought, '^to make the rascal sensible his 
safety lies in keeping his own counsel and mine; and my 
presence, besides, will be a proof of confidence and innocence. 
If I must lose the estate, I must — but I trust better things." 

He entered with a profound salutation to Sir Robert Hazle- 
wood. Sir Robert, who had rather begun to suspect that his 
plebeian neighbour had made a cat's paw of him, inclined 
his head stiffly, took snuff, and looked another way. 

"Mr. Corsand," said Glossin to the other yoke-fellow of 
justice, "your most humble servant." 

" Your humble servant, Mr. Glossin," answered Mr. Corsand, 
drily, composing his countenance regis ad exemplar^ — ^that is 
to say, after the fashion of the Baronet. 

" Mac-Morlan, my worthy friend," continued Glossin, " how 
d'ye do — always on your duty ?" 

" Umph," said honest Mac-Morlan, with little respect either 
to the compliment or salutation — " Colonel Mannering " (a low 
bow slightly returned), " and Mr. Pleydell " (another low bow), 
** I dared not have hoped for your assistance to poor ooimtry 
gentlemen at this period of the session." 

Pleydell took snuff, and eyed him with a glance equally 
shrewd and sarcastic — " 111 teach him," he said aside to Man- 
nering, "the value of the old admonition, Ne (Uicesseris in 
consilmm, antequam voceris." 

" But perhaps I intrude, gentlemen," said Glossin, who could 
not fail to observe the coldness of his reception — " Is this an 
open meeting?" 

" For my part," said Mr. Pleydell, " so far from considering 
your attendance as an intrusion, Mr. Glossin, I was never so 
pleased in my life to meet with you ; especially as I think we 
should, at any rate, have had occasion to request the favour of 
your company in the course of the day." 

" WeU, then, gentlemen," said Glossin, drawing his chair to 
the table, and beginning to bustle about among the papers, 
" where are we ? — ^how far have we got 1 where are the decla- 
rations V* 

" Clerk, give me all these papexBy" said Mr. PleydelL — ^* X 



« 



GUY MANNERING. 415 

have an odd way of arranging my docmnents, Mr. Glossin — 
another person touching them puts me out ; but I shall have 
occasion for your assistance by and by." 

Glossin, thus reduced to inactivity, stole one glance at Dirk 
Hatteraick, but could read nothing in his dark scowl save 
malignity and hatred to all around. " But, gentlemen," said 
Glossin, " is it quite right to keep this poor man so heavily 
ironed, when he is taken up merely for examination ?" 

This was hoisting a kind of friendly signal to the prisoner, 
"He has escaped once before," said Mac-Morlan drily, and 
Glossin was silenced. 

Bertram was now introduced, and, to Glossin's confusion, was 
greeted in the most friendly manner by all present, even by Sir 
Robert Hazlewood himself. He told his recollections of his 
infancy with that candour and caution of expression which 
afforded the best warrant for his good faith. "This seems 
to be rather a civil than a criminal question," said Glossin, 
rising, "and as you cannot be ignorant, gentlemen, of the 
effect which this young person's pretended parentage may have 
on my patrimonial interest, I would rather beg leave to retire." 

" No, my good sir," said Mr. Pleydell — " we can by no means 
spare you. But why do you call this young man's claims pre- 
tended ? — ^I don't mean to fish for your defences against them, 
if you have any, but " 

" Mr. Pleydell," replied Glossin, " I am always disposed to 
act above-board, and I think I can explain the matter at once. 
This young fellow, whom I take to be a natural son of the late 
Ellangowan, has gone about the country for some weeks under 
different names, caballing with a wretched old. mad-woman, 
who, I understand, was shot in a late scuffle, and with other 
tinkers, gipsies, and persons of that description, and a great 
brute farmer from Liddesdale, stirring up the tenants against 
their landlords, which, as Sir Robert Hazlewood of Hazlewood 
knows " 

" Not to interrupt you, Mr. Glossin," said Pleydell, " I ask 
who you say this young man is ?" 

" Why, I say," replied Glossin, " and I believe that gentleman " 
(looking at Hatteraick) "knows that the young man is a 
natural son of the late Ellangowan by a girl called Janet Lighto- 
heel, who was afterwards married to Hewit, the shipwright, that 
lived in the neighbourhcod of Annan His name is Godfiresy 



416 WAVERLEY NOVELS 

Bertram Hewit, by whicli name he was entered on board the 
floyal Caroline excise yacht." 

" Ay V said Pleydell, — " that is a very likely story ! — but, 
not to pause upon some difference of eyes, complexion, and so 
forth — ^be pleased to step forward, sir. — ^A young seafaring man 
came forward. — " Here," proceeded the counsellor, " is the real 
Simon Pure — there's Godfrey Bertram Hewit, arrived last night 
from Antigua md Liverpool, mate of a West Indian, and in a 
fair way of doing well in the world, although he came somewhat 
irregularly into it." 

While some conversation passed between the other justices 
and this young man, Pleydell lifted from among the papers on 
the table Hatteraick's old pocket-book. A peculiar glance of 
the smuggler's eye induced the shrewd lawyer to think there 
was something here of interest. He therefore continued the 
examination of the papers, laying the book on the table, but 
instantly perceived that the prisoner's interest in the research 
had cooled. — " It must be in the book still, whatever it is," 
thought Pleydell ; and again applied himself to the pocket-book, 
until he discovered, on a narrow scrutiny, a slit, between the 
pasteboard and leather, out of which he drew three small 
slips of paper. Pleydell now, turning to Glossin, "requested 
the favour that he would tell them if he had assisted at the 
search for the body of Kennedy, and the child of his patron, on 
the day when they disappeared." 

" I did not — ^that is — I did," answered the conscience-struck 
Glossin. 

" It is remarkable, though," said the advocate, " that, con- 
nected as you were with the Ellangowan family, I don't recollect 
your being examined, or even appearing before me, while that 
investigation was proceeding?" 

"I was called to London," answered Glossin, "on most 
important business, the morning after that sad affair." 

" Clerk," said Pleydell, " minute down that reply. — I presume 
the business, Mr. Glossin, was to negotiate these three bills, 
drawn by you on Messrs. Vanbeest and Vanbniggen, and 
accepted by one Dirk Hatteraick in their name, on the very day 
of the murder. I congratulate you on their being regularly 
retired, as I perceive they have been. I think the chances were 
against it." Glossin's countenance fell. "This piece of real 
evidence," continued Mr. Pleydell, "makes good the account 



GUY MANNERING. 417 

given of your conduct on this occasion by a man called Gabriel 
Faa, whom we have now in custody, and who witnessed the 
whole transaction between you and that worthy prisoner — Have 
you any explanation to give?" 

" Mr. Pleydell," said Glossin with great composure, " I pre- 
sume, if you were my counsel, you would not advise me to 
answer upon the spur of the moment to a charge, which the 
basest of mankind seem ready to establish by perjury." 

" My advice," said the counsellor, " would be regulated by my 
opinion of your innocence or guilt. In your case, I believe you 
take the wisest course; but you are aware you must stand 
committed?" 

" Committed 1 — for what, sir?" replied Glossin; "upon a 
charge of murder V* 

" No ; only as art and part of kidnapping the child." 

" That is a bailable offence." 

" Pardon me," said Pleydell, " it is plagivm, and plagivm is 
felony." 

" Forgive me, Mr. Pleydell ; — ^there is only one case upon 
record, Torrence and Waldie. They were, you remember, 
resurrection-womea, who had promised to procure a child's bodj 
for some young surgeons. Being upon honour to their em- 
ployers, rather than disappoint the evening lecture of the 
students, they stole a live child, murdered it, and sold the body 
for three shillings and sixpence. — They were hanged, but for 
the murder not for the plagivm.* Your civil law has carried 
you a little too far." 

"Well, sir; — but, in the meantime, Mr. Mac-Morlan must 
commit you to the county jail, in case this young man repeats 
the same story. — Officers, remove Mr. Glossin and Hatteraick, 
and guard them in different apartments." 

Gabriel, the gipsy, was then introduced, and gave a distinct 
account of his deserting from Captain Pritchard's vessel and 
joining the smugglers in the action ; detailed how Dirk 
Hatteraick set fire to his ship when he found her disabled, and 
under cover of the smoke escaped with his crew, and as much 
goods as they could save, into the cavern, where they proposed 
to lie til] night-fall. Hatteraick himself, his mate Vanbeest 
Brown, and three others, of whom the declarant was one, went 

* This is, in its circamstances and issue, actually a case tried and re- 
ported. 

^OL. 11. 2 E 



418 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

into the adjacent woods to communicate with some of theii 
friends in the neighbourhood. They fell in with Kennedy 
unexpectedly, and Hatteraick and Brown, aware that he was 
the occasion of their disasters, resolved to murder him. He 
stated that he had seen them lay violent hands on the officer, 
and drag him through the woods, but had not partaken in the 
assault, nor witnessed its termination. That he returned to the 
cavern by a diflferent route, where he again met Hatteraick and 
his accomplices ; and the captain was in the act of giving an 
account how he and Brown had pushed a huge crag over, as 
Kennedy lay groaning on the beach, when Glossin suddenly 
appeared among them. To the whole transaction by which 
Hatteraick purchased his secrecy he was witness. Expecting 
yoimg Bertram he could give a distinct account till he went to 
India, after which he had lost sight of him until he unexpect- 
edly met with him in Liddesdale. Gabriel Faa farther stated, 
that he instantly sent notice to his aunt Meg Merrilies, as well 
as to Hatteraick, who he knew was then upon the coast ; but 
that he had incurred his aunt's displeasure upon the latter 
account. He concluded, that his aunt had immediately declared 
that she would do all that lay in her power to help young 
Ellangowan to his right, even if it should be by informing 
against Dirk Hatteraick ; and that many of her people assisted 
her besides himself, from a belief that she was gifted with 
supernatural inspkations. With the same purpose, he under- 
stood, his aunt had given to Bertram the treasure of the tribe, 
of which she had the custody. Three or four gipsies, by the 
express command of Meg MerriUes, had mmgled in the crowd 
when the custom-house was attacked, for the purpose of liberat- 
ing Bertram, which he had himself effected. He said, that in 
obeying Meg's dictates they did not pretend to estimate their 
propriety or rationality ; the respect in which she was held by 
her tribe precluding all such subjects of speculation. Upon 
farther interrogation, the witness added, that his aunt had al- 
ways said that Harry Bertram carried that roimd his neck which 
would ascertain his birth. It was a spell, she said, that an 
Oxford scholar had made for him, and she possessed the smug- 
glers with an opinion, that to deprive him of it would occasion 
the loss of the vessel. 

Bertram here pruduced a small velvet ba^, which he said he 
had worn round his neck from his earliest infancy, and which 



GUY MANNERING. 419 

he had preserved, — first from superstitious reverence, — and 
latterly, from the hope that it might serve one day to aid in 
the discoveiy of his birth. The bag being opened, was found 
to contain a blue silk case, from which was drawn a scheme 
of nativity. Upon inspecting this paper. Colonel Mannering 
instantly admitted it was his own composition, and afforded 
the strongest and most satisfactory evidence, that the possessor 
of it must necessarily be the yoimg heir of Ellangowan, by 
avowing his having first appeared in that country in the 
character of an astrologer. 

" And now," said Pleydell, " make out warrants of conunit- 
ment for Hatteraick and Glossin untU liberated in due coiu^e 
of law. Yet," he said, " I am sorry for Glossin." 

" Now, I think," said Mannering, " he's incomparably the least 
deserving of pity of the two. The other's a bold fellow, though 
as hard as flint." 

" Very natural, Colonel," said the advocate, " that you should 
be interested in the ruffian, and I in the knave — ^that's all pro- 
fessional taste ; but I can tell you, Glossin would have been a 
pretty lawyer, had be not had such a turn for the roguish pait 
of the profession." 

" Scandal would say," observed Mannering, " he might not be 
the worse lawyer for that." 

" Scandal would tell a lie, then," replied Pleydell, " as she 
osually does. Law's like laudanum ; it's much more easy to use 
it as a quack does, than to learn to apply it like a physician." 



CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVENTH. 

Unfit to live or die — marble heart ! 
After him, fellows, drag him to the block. 

Measure fob Measure. 

The jail at the county town of the shire of was one of 

those old fashioned dungeons which disgraced Scotland until of 
late years. When the prisoners and their guard arrived there, 
Hatteraick, whose violence and strength were well known, was 
secured in what is called the condenmed ward. This was a large 
apartment near the top of the prison. A round bur of iron, about 



420 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

the thickness of a man's arm above the elbow, crossed the apart 
ment horizontally at the height of about six inches from the 
floor ; and its extremities were strongly built into the wall at 
either end. * Hatteraick's ankles were secured within shackles, 
which were connected by a chain at the distance of about four 
feet, with a large iron ring, which travelled upon the bar we have 
described. Thus a prisoner might shuffle along the length of the 
bar from one side of the room to another, but could not retreat 
farther fix)m it in any other direction than the brief length of the 
chain admitted. When his feet had been thus secured, the keeper 
removed his hand-cuffs, and left his person at liberty in other 
respects. A pallet-bed was placed close to the bar of iron, so that 
the shackled prisoner might lie down at pleasure, still fastened to 
the iron bar in the manner described. 

Hatteraick had not been long in this place of confinement, 
before Glossin arrived at the same prison-house. In respect to 
his comparative rank and education, he was not ironed, but placed 
in a decent apartment, under the inspection of Mac-Guffog, who, 
since the destruction of the bridewell of Portanferry by the mob, 
had acted here as an under-tumkey. When Glossin was enclosed 
within this room, and had solitude and leisure to calculate all 
the chances against him and in his favour, he could not prevail 
upon himself to consider the game as desperate. 

" The estate is lost," he said, " that must go ; — ^and, between 
Pleydell and Mao-Morlan, they'U cut down my claim on it to a 
trifle. My character — ^but if I get off with life and Hberty, I'll 
win money yet, and varnish that over again. I knew not the 
ganger's job until the rascal had done the deed, and though I 
had some advantage by the contraband, that is no felony. But 
the kidnapping of the boy — there they touch me closer. Let 
me see : — This Bertram was a child at the time — ^his evidence 
must be imperfect — ^the other fellow is a deserter, a gipsy, and 
an outlaw — Meg Merrilies, d — ^n her, is dead. These infernal 
bills ! Hatteraick brought them with him, I suppose, to have 
the means of threatening me, or extorting money from me. I 

* ThiA mode of securmg prisoners was universally practised in Scotland 
after condemnation. When a man received sentence of death, he was put 
uy>on the Oady as it was called, that is, secured to the bar of iron in the 
manner mentioned in the text. The practjce subsi^^ted in Edinburgh till 
the old jaU was taken down some yean since, and perhaps may be still m 
n»9. 



GUY MANNBRING. 421 

must endeavour to see the rascal — ^must get him to stand steady 
— ^must persuade him to put some other colour upon the busi- 
ness." 

His mind teeming with schemes of ^ture deceit to cover for- 
mer villany, he spent the time in arranging and combining them 
until the hour of supper. Mac-Guffog attended as turnkey on 
this occasion. He was, as we know, the old and special acquaint- 
ance of the prisoner who was now under his charge. After 
giving the turnkey a glass of brandy, and sounding him with 
one or two cajoling speeches, Glossin made it his request that he 
would help him to an interview with Dirk Hatteraick. — " Im- 
possible ! utterly impossible ! — ^it*s contrary to the express orders 
of Mr. Mac-Morlan, and the Captain" (as the head jailor of a 
county jail is called in Scotland) " would never forgie me." 

" But why should he know of it ?" said Glossin, slipping a couple 
of guineas into Mac-Guflfog's hand. 

The turnkey weighed the gold, and looked sharp at Glossin. 
— " Ay, ay, Mr. Glossin, ye ken the ways o* this place. Lookee, 
at lock-up hour, I'll return and bring ye up stairs to him — But 
ye must stay a* night in his cell, for I am under needcessity to 
carry the keys to the captain for the night, and I cannot let you 
out again until morning — ^then I'll visit the wards half an hour 
earlier than usual, and ye may get out, and be snug in your ain 
birth when the captain gangs his rounds." 

When the hour of ten had pealed from the neighbouring steeple, 
Mac-Guffog came prepared with a small dark lantern. He said 
softly to Glossin, " Slip your shoes off, and follow me." When 
Glossin was out of the door, Mac-Guffog, as if in the execution 
of his ordinary duty, and speaking to a prisoner within, called 
aloud, " Good night to you, sir," and locked the door, clattering the 
bolts with much ostentatious noise. He then guided Glossin up 
a steep and narrow stair, at the top of which was the door of the 
condemned ward ; he unbarred and unlocked it, and giving Glos- 
sin the lantern, made a sign to him to enter, and locked the door 
behind him with the same affected accuracy. 

In the large dark cell into which he was thus introduced Glos- 
sin 's feeble light for some time enabled him to discover nothing. 
At length he could dimly distinguish the pallet-bed stretched on 
the floor beside the great iron bar which traversed the room, and 
on that pallet reposed the figure of a man. Glossin approached 
him—" Dirk Hatteraick !" 



422 WAVEBLEY NOVELS. 

" Donner and hagd ! it is his voice," said the prisoner, sitting 
up and clashing his fetters a& he rose : " then my dream is true ! 
Begone, and leave me to myself — it will be your best." 

" What ! my good friend," said Glossin, " will you allow the 
prospect of a few weeks' confinement to depress your spirit?" 

" Yes," answered the ruffian, sullenly — " when I am only to be 
released by a halter ! — Let me alone — ^go about your business, 
and turn the lamp from my face." 

"Psha! my dear Dirk, don't be afraid," said Glossin; "I 
have a glorious plan to make all right." 

" To the bottomless pit with your plans !" replied his accom- 
plice. " You have planned me out of ship, cargo, and life ; and 
I dreamt this moment that Meg Merrilies dragged you here by 
the hair, and gave me the long clasped knife she used to wear. 
You don't know what she said — Sturm wetter ! it will be your 
wisdom not to tempt me !" 

" But, Hatteraick, my good friend, do but rise and speak to 
me," said Glossin. 

"I wiQ not!" answered the savage, doggedly — "you have 
caused all the mischief; you would not let Meg keep the boy — 
she would have returned him after he had forgot all." 

"Why, Hatteraick, you are turned driveller !" 

" Wetter ! will you deny that all that cursed attempt at 
Portanferry, which lost both sloop and crew, was your device for 
your own job?" 

" But the goods, you know" 

"Curse the goods!" said the smuggler, — "we could have 
got plenty more ; but, der deyvil ! to lose the ship and the fine 
fellows, and my own life, for a cursed coward villain, that 
always works his own mischief with other people's hands I Speak 
to me no more — I'm dangerous." 

" But, Dirk — but, Hatteraick, hear me only a few words." 

"Hagel! nein !" 

" Only one sentence." 

" Tausand curses ! nein !" 

" At leaat get up, for an obstinate Dutch brute !" said Glossin 
losing his temper, and pushing Hatteraick with his foot. 

"Donner and blitzen!" said Hatteraick, springing up and 
grappling with him — "you vnll have it then?" 

Glossin struggled and resisted ; but, owing to his surprise 
at the fury of the assault, sn ineffectually, that he fell under 



GUY MANNERING. 423 

flatteraick, the back part of his neck coming fiill upon the iron 
bar with stunning violence. The death-grapple continued. The 
room immediately below the condemned ward, being that of 
Glossin, was, of course, empty ; but the inmates of the second 
apartment beneath felt the shock of Glossin's heavy fall, and 
heard a noise as of struggling and of groans. But all sounds 
of horror were too congenial to this place to excite much 
curiosity or interest. - 

In the morning, faithful to his promise, Mac-Guflfog came — 
" Mr Glossin," said he, in a whispering voice. 

" Call louder," answered Dirk Hatteraick. 

" Mr. Glossin, for G^'s sake come away !" 

" He'll hardly do that without help," said Hatteraick. 

"What are you chattering there for, Mac-Guffogi" called 
out the captain from below. 

** Come away, for God's sake, Mr. Glossin !" repeated the 
turnkey. 

At this moment the jailor made his appearance with a light. 
Great was his surprise, and even horror, to observe Glossin's 
body lying doubled across the iron bar, in a posture that 
excluded all idea of his being alive. Hatteraick was quietly 
stretched upon his pallet within a yard of his victim. On lifting 
Glossin, it was found he had been dead for some hours. His 
body bore uncommon marks of violence. The spine, where it 
joins the skull, had received severe injury by his first fall. 
There were distinct marks of strangulation about the throat, 
which corresponded with the blackened state of his face. The 
head was turned backward over the shoulder, as if the neck had 
been wrung round with desperate violence. So that it would 
seem that his inveterate antagonist had fixed a fatal gripe 
upon the wretch's throat, and never quitted it while life lasted. 
The lantern, crushed and broken to pieces, lay beneath the 
body. 

Mac-Morlan was in the town, and came instantly to examine 
the corpse. — "What brought Glossin here"?" he said to Hat- 
teraick. 

" The devil !" answered the rufl&an. 

" And what did you do to him ?" 

" Sent him to hell before me," replied the miscreant. 

"Wretch 1" said Mac-Morlan, "you have crowned a life spent 



424 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

without a single virtue, with the murder of your own miserable 
accomplice !" 

" Virtue 1" exclaimed the prisoner — " Donner ! I was always 
faithful to my shipowners — always accounted for cargo to the 
last stiver. Hark ye ! let me have pen and ink, and Fll write 
an account of the whole to our house ; and leave me alone a 
couple of hours, will ye — and let them take away that piece of 
carrion, donner wetter !" - 

Mac-Morlan deemed it the best way to humour the savage ; 
he was furnished with writing materials, and left alone. When 
they again opened the door, it was found that this determined 
villain had anticipated justice. He had adjusted a cord taken 
from the truokle-bed, and attached it to a bone, the relic of his 
\ yesterday's dinner, which he had contrived to drive into a 
crevice between two stones in the wall, at a height as great as 
he could reach standing upon the bar. Having fastened the 
noose, he had the resolution to drop his body as if to fall on his 
knees, and to retain that posture until resolution was no longer 
necessary. The letter he had written to his owners, though 
chiefly upon the business of their trade, contained many 
allusions to the younker of Ellangowan, as he called him, and 
afforded absolute confirmation of all Meg Merrilies and her 
nephew had told. 

To dismiss the catastrophe of these two wretched men, I 
shall only add, that Mac-Guffog was turned out of office, not- 
withstanding his declaration (which he offered to attest by 
oath), that he had locked Glossin safely in his own room upon 
the night preceding his being found dead in Dirk Hatterdick's 
cell. His story, however, found faith with the worthy Mr. 
Skriegh, and other lovers of the marvellous, who stiU hold that 
^ the Enemy of Mankind brought these two wretches together 
upon that night, by supernatural interference, that they might 
fill up the cup of their guilt and receive its mead, by murder 
and suicide. 



GUT MAKNEEING. 425 



CHAPTEE FIFTY-EIGHTa 

To sum the wliole — the close of all. 

Dean Swift. 

As Glossin died without heirs, and without payment of the 
price, the estate of Ellangowan was again thrown upon the 
hands of Mr. Godfrey Bertram's creditors, the right of most oi 
whom was however defeasible, in case Henry Bertram should 
establish his character of heir of entail. This young gentleman 
put his affairs into the hands of Mr. Pleydell and Mr. Mac- 
Morlan, with one single proviso, that though he himself should 
be obliged again to go to India, every debt, justly and honour- 
ably due by his father, should be made good to the claimant. 
Mannering, who heard this declaration, grasped him kindly by 
the hand, and from that moment might be dated a thorough 
onderstanding between them. 

The hoards of Miss Margaret Bertram, and the liberal 
assistance of the Colonel, easily enabled the heir to make 
provision for payment of the just creditors of his father; — 
while the ingenuity and research of his law friends detected, 
especially in the accounts of Glossin, so many overcharges as 
greatly diminished the total amount. In these drcmnstances, 
the creditors did not hesitate to recognise Bertram's right, and 
to surrender to him the house and property of his ancestors. 

All the party repaired from Woodboume to take possession, 
amid the shouts of the tenantry and the neighbourhood ; and 
so eager was Colonel Mannering to superintend certain im- 
provements which he had recommended to Bertram, that he 
removed with his family from Woodboume to Ellangowan, 
although at present containing much less and much inferior 
accommodation. 

The poor Dominie's brain was almost turned with joy on 
returning to his old habitation. He posted up stairs, taking 
three steps at once, to a little shabby attic, his cell and dormi- 
tory in former days, and which the possession of his much 
superior apartment at Woodboume had never banished from his 
memory. Here one sad thought suddenly stmck the honest 
man — ^the books ! — ^no three rooms in Ellangowan were capable 



426 WAVERLKY NOVELK. 

u) contain them. While thi& qualifying reflection was pafi»ing 
through his mind, he was suddenly summoned by Mannering 
to assist in calculating some proportions relating to a large and 
splendid house, which was to be built on the site of the New 
Place of Ellangowan, in a style corresponding to the magnificence 
of the ruins in its vicinity. Among the various rooms in the 
plan, the Dominie observed that one of the largest was entitled 
The Libbaby ; and close beside was a snug well-proportioned 
chamber, entitled Mr. Sampson's Apaetment. — " Prodigious, 
prodigious, prodigious !" shouted the enraptured Dominie. 

Mr. Pleydell had left the party for some time; but he 
returned, according to promise, during the Christmas recess of 
the courts. He drove up to £llangowan when all the family 
were abroad but the Colonel, who was busy with plans of build- 
ings and pleasure-grounds, in which he was weU skilled, and 
took great delight. 

"Ah ha !" said the counsellor, — "so here you are 1 Where 
are the ladies 1 Where is the fair Julia ?" 

" Walking out with young Hazlewood, Bertram, and Captain 
Delaserre, a friend of his, who is with us just now. They are 
gone to plan out a cottage at Demcleugh. Well, have you 
carried through your law business 1" 

"With a wet finger," answered the lawyer; "got oui 
youngster's special service retoured into Chancery. We had 
him served heir before the macers." 

" Macersi who are they 1" 

" Why, it is a kind of judicial Saturnalia. You must know, 
that one of the requisites to be a macer, or officer in attendance 
upon our supreme court, is, that they shall be men of no 
baowledge." 

"Very weU!" 

" Now, our Scottish legislature, for the joke's sake I suppose, 
have constituted those men of no knowledge into a peculiar court 
for trying questions of relationship and descent, such as this 
business of Bertram, which often involve the most nice and 
complicated questions of evidence." 

" The devil they have ? — I should think that rather incon- 
venient," said Mannering. 

" O, we have a practical remedy for the theoretical absurdity. 
One or two of the judges act upon such occasions as prompter* 
and assessors to their own door-keepers. But you Imow what 



GUY MANNERING. 427 

Cujacius says, Multa sutU in morUms dissentanea m/alta^ svm 
ratione* However, this Satumalian court has done our busi- 
ness ; and a glorious batch of claret we had afterwards at 
Walker's — ^Mac-Morlan will stare when he sees the bill." 

" Never fear," said the Colonel ; " we'll face the shock, and 
entertain the county at my ^end Mrs. Mac-Candlish's to 
boot." 

"And choose Jack Jabos for your master of horse ?" replied 
the lawyer. 

" Perhaps I may." 

" And where is Dandie, the redoubted Lord of Liddesdale 1" 
demanded the advocate. 

" Returned to his mountains ; but he has promised Julia to 
make a descent in sunmier, with the goodwife, as he calls her, 
and I don't know how many children." 

" 0, the curlie-headed varlets ! — I must come to play at 
Blind Harry and Hy Spy with them. — But what is all this ?" 
added Pleydell, taking up the plans ; — " tower in the centre to 
be an imitation of the Eagle Tower at Caernarvon — corps de 
logis — ^the devil I — ^wings — ^wings ? why, the house will take 
the estate of Ellangowan on its back, and fly away with it !" 

" Why then we must ballast it with a few bags of Sicc^ 
rupees," replied the Colonel. 

" Aha ! sits the wind there ? Then I suppose the young dog 
carries off my mistress Julia 1" 

^* Even so, counsellor." 

" These rascals, the post-matij get the better of us of the old 
school at every turn," said Mr. Pleydell. " But she must con- 
vey and make over her interest in me to Lucy." 

" To teU you the truth, I am afraid your flank will be turned 
there too," replied the Colonel 

" Indeed ?" 

" Here haa been Sir Robert Hazlewood," said Mannering, 
" upon a visit to Bertram, thinking, and deeming, and opin- 
mg" 

" Lord ! pray spare me the worthy baronet's triads !" 

" Well, sir," continued Mannering ; " to make short, he con- 
ceived that as the property of Singleside lay like a wedge be- 
tween two farms of his, and was four or five miles separated 
from EUangowan, something like a sale, or exchange, or ar- 
* The singalar inconsistency hinted at is now, in a great degree, remored. 



428 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

rangement might take place, to the mutual convenienoe of both 
parties." 

" Well, and Bertram"— 

" Why, Bertram replied, that he considered the original 
settlement of Mrs. Margaret Bertram as the arrangement most 
proper in the circumstances of the family, and that therefore 
the estate of Singleside was the property of his sister." 

"The rascal!" said Pleydell, wiping his spectacles, "he'll 
steal my heart as well as my mistress — Et puis ?" 

" And then Sir Robert retired, after many gracious speeches ; 
but last week he again took the field in force, with his coach 
and six horses, his laced scarlet waistcoat, and best bob-wig — 
all very grand, as the good-boy books say." 

" Ah ! and what was his overture 1" 

" Why he talked in great form of an attachment on the part 
of Charles Hazlewood to Miss Bertram." 

"Ay, ay; he respected the little god Cupid when he saw 
him perched on the Dun of Singleside. And is poor Lucy to 
keep house with that old fool and his wife, who is just the 
knight himself in petticoats 1" 

" No — we parried that. Singleside-House is to be repaired 
for the young people, and to be called hereafter Mount Hazle- 
w^ood." 

" And do you yourself, Colonel, propose to continue at Wood- 
boume 1" 

" Only till we carry these plans into effect. See, here's the 
plan of my Bungalow, with all convenience for being separate 
and sulky when I pleasa" 

" And, being situated, as I see, next door to the old castle, 
you may repair Donagild's tower for the nocturnal contem- 
pJation of the celestial bodies 1 Bravo. Colonel !" 

" No, no, my dear counsellor ! Here ends The Astbologee." 



NOTES TO GUT MANNEEING. 



Note A, p. 34. — Groaning Malt and Ken-no. 

The groaning malt mentioned in the text was the ale brewed for the 
purpose of being drunk after the lady or goodwife's safe delivery. The 
keTirno has a more ancient source, and perhaps the custom may be derived 
from the secret rites of the Bon^z Dea. A large and rich cheese was made 
by the women of the family, with great affectation of secrecy, for the re- 
freshment of the gossips who were to attend at the canny minute. This 
was the ken-ifio, so called because its existence was secret (that is, presumed 
to be so) from all the males of the family, but especially from the husband 
and master. He was, accordingly, expected to conduct himself as if he 
knew of no such preparation, to act as if desirous to press the female 
guests to refreshments, and to seem surprised at their obstinate refusal. 
But the instant his back was turned the kenrno was produced ; and aftei 
all had eaten their fill, with a proper accompaniment of the groaning malti 
the remainder was divided among the gossips, each carrying a large portion 
home with the same affectation of great secrecy. 



Note B, p. 161. — Mump's Ha*. 

It is fitting to explain to the reader the locality described in this chapter. 
Tliere is, or rather I should say there toas, a little inn called Mump's Hail, 
that is, being interpreted. Beggar's Hotel, near to Gilsland, which had not 
then attained its present fame as a Spa. It was a hedge alehouse, where 
the Border farmers of either country often stopped to refresh themselves 
and their nags, in their way to and from the fairs and trysts in Cumberland, 
and especially those who came from or went to Scotland, through a barren 
and .lonely district, without either road or pathway, emphatically called the 
Waste of Bewcastle. At the period when the adventures described in the 
novel are supposed to have taken place, there were many instances of 
attacks by freebooters on those who travelled through this wild district, 
and Mump's Ha' had a bad reputation for harbouring the banditti who 
committed such depredations. 

An old and sturdy yeoman belonging to the Scottish side, by surname 
an Armstrong or Elliot, but well known by the soubriquet of flighting 
Charlie of Liddesdale, and still remembered for the courage he displayed 
in the frequent frays which took place on the Border fifty or sixty years 
since, had the following adventure in the Waste, which suggested the idee 
of the scene in the text : — 



_J 



430 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

Gharlie had been at Stagshaw-bank fair, had sold his sheep or cattle, oi 
whatever he had brought to market, and was on his return to Liddesdale. 
There were then no country banks where cash could be deposited, and bills 
received instead, which greatly encouraged robbery in that wild country, as 
the objects of plunder were usually fraught with gold. The robbers had 
spies in the fair, by means of whom they generally knew whose purse was 
best stocked, and who took a lonely and desolate road homeward — those, 
in short, who were best worth robbing, and likely to be most easily robbed, 

All this Charlie knew fall well ; but he had a pair of excellent pistols, 
and a dauntless heart. He stopped at Hump's Ha', notwithstanding the 
evil character of the place. His horse was accommodated where it might 
have the necessary rest and feed of com ; and Charlie himself, a dashing 
fellow, grew gracious with the limdlady, a buxom queau, who used all the 
influence in her power to induce him to stop all night. The landlord was 
from home, she said, and it was ill pasvsing the Waste, as twilight must 
needs descend on him before he gained the Scottish side, which w:is 
reckoned the safest But Fighting Charlie, though he suffered himself to 
be detained later than was prudent, did not account Mump's Ha' a safe 
place to quarter in during the night. He tore himself away, therefore, 
from Meg's good fare and kind words, and mounted his nag, having first 
examined his pistols, and tried by the ramrod whether the charge remained 
in them. 

He proceeded a mile or two at a round trot, when, as the Waste stretched 
black before him, apprehensions began to awaken in his mind, partly 
arising out of Meg'S unusual kindness, which he could not help thinking 
had rather a suspicious appearance. He therefore resolved to reload his 
pistols, lest the powder had become damp ; but what was his surprise, 
when he drew the charge, to find neither powder nor ball, while each barrel 
had been carefully filled with tow up to the space which the loading had 
occupied ! and the priming of the weapons being left untouched, nothing 
but actually drawing and examining the chaise could have discovered the 
inefficiency of his arms till the fatal minute arrived when their services 
were required. Charlie bestowed a hearty Liddesdale curse on his landlady, 
and reloaded his pistols with care and accuracy, having now no doubt that 
he was to be waylaid and assaulted. He was not far engaged in the Waste, 
which was "tiien, and is now, traversed only by such routes as are described 
in the text, when two or three fellows, disguised and variously armed, 
started from a moss -hag, while by a glance behind him (for, marching, an 
the Spaniard says, with his beard on his shoulder, he reconnoitred in every 
direction), Charlie instantly saw retreat was impossible, as other two stout 
men appeared behind him at some distance. The Borderer lost not a 
moment in taking his resolution, and boldly trotted against his enemies in 
front, who called loudly on him to stand and deliver ; Charlie spurred on, 
and presented his pistol. " D — u your pistol," said the foremost robber ; 
whom Charlie to his dying day protested he believed to have been the 
landlord of Mump's Ha'. " D — ^n your pistol ! T care not a curse for it" 
— " Ay, lad," said the deep voice of Fighting Charlie, " but the tow's oui 
now." He had no occasion to utter another word ; the rogues, surprised 
at finding a man of redoubted courage well armed, instead of being defence- 
less, took to the moss m every direction, and he passed on his way without 
fpjrther molestation.. 



r 



NOTES TO GUY MANNERING. 431 

ITie author has heard this story told by persons who received it from 
Fighting Charlie himself ; he has also heard that Mump's Ha' was after^ 
wards the scene of some other atrocious villany, for which the people of the 
house suffered. But these are all tales of at least half-a-century old, and 
the Waste has been for many years as safe as any place in the kingdom. 



Note C, p. 162. — Dandds Dinmont. 

The author may here remark, that the character of Dandie Dinmont was 
drawn from no individual. A dozen, at least, of stout Liddesdale yeomen 
with whom he has been acquainted, and whose hospitality he has shared 
in his rambles through that wild country, at a time when it was totally in- 
accessible save in the manner described in the text, might lay claim to 
be the prototype of the rough, but faithful, hospitable, and generous farmer. 
But one circumstance occasioned the name to be fixed upon a most re- 
spectable individual of this class, now no more. Mr. James Davidson of 
flindlee, a tenant of Lord Douglas, besides the points of blunt honesty, 
personal strength, and hardihood, designed to be expressed in the character 
of Dandie Dinmont, had the humour of naming a celebrated race of terriers 
which he possessed by the generic names of Mustard and Pepper (according 
as their colour was yellow or greyish-black), without any other individual 
distinction, except as according to the nomenclature in the text Mr. 
Davidson resided at Hindlee, a wild farm on the very edge of the Teyiot- 
dale mountains, and bordering close on Liddesdale, where the rivers and 
brooks divide as they take their course to the Eastern or Western seas. 
His passion for the chase, in all its forms, but especially for fox-hunting, 
as followed in the fashion described in the next chapter, in conducting 
which he was skilful beyond most men in the South Highlands, was the 
distinguishing point in his character. 

When the tale on which these comments are written became rather 
popular, the name of Dandie Dinmont was generally given to him, which 
Mr. Davidson received with great good humour, only saying, while he dis- 
tinguished the author by the name applied to him in the country, where 
his own is so common — " that the Sheriff had not written about him mair 
than about other folk, but only about his dogs." An English lady of high 
rank and fashion being desirous to possess a brace of the celebrated Mustard 
and Pepper terriers, expressed her wishes in a letter, which was literally 
addressed to Dandie Dinmont, under which very general direction it reached 
Mr. Davidson, who was justly proud of the application, and failed not to 
comply with a request which did him and his favourite attendants so much 
honour. 

I trust I shall not be considered as offending the memory of a kind and 
worthy man, if I mention a little trait of character which occurred in Mr. 
Davidson's last illness. I use the words of the exceUent clergyman who 
attended him, who gave the account to a reverend gentleman of the same 
persuasion : — 

" I read to Mr. Davidson the very suitable and interesting truths you 
addressed to him. He listened to them with great seriousness, and has 
uniformly displayed a deep concern about his soul's salvation. He died 
on the first Sabbath of thjs year (1820) ; an apoplectic stroke deprived him 



i82 WAYEKLEY NOVELS. 

in an instant o( all sensation, but happily his brother was at his bed-side, 
for he had deiained him from the meeting-house that day to be near him, 
although he felt himself not much worse than usuaL — So you have got the 
last little Mustard that the hand of Dandie Dinmont bestowed. 

'* His ruling passion was strong even on the eve of death. Mr. Baillie's 
fox-hounds had started a fox opposite to his window a few weeks ago, and 
as soon as he heard the sound of the dogs, his eyes glistened ; he insisted 
on getting out of bed, and with much difficulty got to the window, and 
there enjoyed the fun, as he called it. When I came down to ask for him, 
he said, * he had seen Reynard, but had not seen his death. If it had been 
the will of Providence,' he added, * I would have liked to have been after 
him ; but I am glad that I got to the window, and am thankful for what 
I saw, for it has done me a great deal of good.' Notwithstanding these 
eccentricities (adds the sensible and liberal clergyman), I sincerely hope 
and believe he has gone to a better world, and better company and enjoy- 
ments." 

If some part of this little narrative may excite a smile, it is one which is 
consistent with the most perfect respect for the simple-minded invalid, and 
his kind and judicious religious instructor, who, we hope, will not be dis- 
pleased with our giving, we trust, a correct edition of an anecdote which 
has been pretty generally circulated. The race of Pepper and Mustard are 
in the highest estimation at this day, not only for vermin-killing, but for 
intelligence and fidelity. Those who, Uke the author, possess a brace of 
them, consider them as very desirable companions. 



Note D, p. 174. — Lum Cleeks. 

The cleek here intimated is the iron hook, or hooks, depending from th« 
chimney of a Scottish cottage, on which the pot is suspended when boiling. 
The same appendage is often called the crook. The salmon is usually 
dried by hanging it up, after being split and rubbed with salt, in the 
smoke of the turf fire above the cleeks, where it is said to reist, tiiat pre- 
paration being so termed. The salmon thus preserved is eaten as a delicacy, 
under the name of kipper, a luxury to which Dr. Redgill has given his 
sanction as an ingredient of the Scottish breakfast. — See the excellent 
novel (by Miss Ferrier) entitled " Marriage." 



Note E, p. 176. — Clan Surnames. 

The distinction of individuals by nicknames when they possess no pro- 
perty is still common on the Border, and indeed necessary, from the number 
of persons having the same name. In the small village of Lustruther, in 
Roxbui^hshire, there dwelt, in the memory of man, four inhabitants, called 
Andrew, or Dandie Oliver. They were distinguished as Dandie Eassil-^te, 
Dandie Wassil-gate, Dandie Thumbie, and Dandie Dumbie. The two first 
had their names from living eastwiurd and westward in the street of the 
village ; the thu'd from something peculiar In the conformation of bis 
thumb ; the fourth from his taciturn habits. 



NOTES TO GUY MANNERING. 433 

It is told as a well-known jest, that a beggar-woman, repulsed from door 
to door as she solicited quarters through a village of Annandale, asked, in 
her despair, if there were no Christians in the place. To which the hearers, 
concluding that she inquired for some persons so sumamed, answered, " Na, 
na, there are nae Christians here ; we are a' Johnstones and Jardines/' 



Note F, p. 182. — Gipsy Sxipbbstitions. 

The mysterious rites in which Meg Mernlies is described as engaging, 
belong to her character as a queen of her race. All know that gipsies in 
every country claim acquaintance with the gift of fortune-telling ; but, as 
is often the case, they are liable to the superstitions of which they avail 
themselves in otiiers. The correspondent of Blackwood, quoted in the 
Introduction to this Tale, gives us some information on the subject of their 
credulity. 

" 1 have ever understood," he says, speaking of the Yetholm gipsies, 
" that they are extremely superstitious — carefully noticing the formation 
of the clouds, the flight of particular birds, and the soughing of the winds, 
before attempting any enterprise. They have been known for several 
successive days to turn back with their loaded carts, asses, and children, 
on meeting with persons whom they considered of unlucky aspect ; nor do 
they ever proceed on their summer per^rinations without some propitious 
omen of their fortunate return. They also bum the clothes of their dead, 
not so much from any apprehension of infection being communicated by 
them, as the conviction that the very circumstance of wearing them would 
shorten the days of their living. They likewise carefully watch the corpse 
by night and day till the time of interment, and conceive that ' the deil 
tinkles at the lykewake ' of those who felt in their dead-thraw the agonies 
and terrors of remorse. " 

These notions are not peculiar to the gipsies ; but having been once 
generally entertained among the Scottish common people, are now only 
found among those who are the most rude in their habits, and most devoid 
of instruction. The popular idea, that the protracted struggle between 
life and death is painfully prolonged by keeping the door of the apartment 
shut, was received as certain by the superstitious eld of Scotland. But 
neither was it to be thrown wide open. To leave the door igar was the 
plan adopted by the old crones who understood the mysteries of deathbeds 
and lykewakes. In that case there was room for the imprisoned spirit to 
escape ; and yet an obstacle, we have been assured, was offered to the 
entrance of any frightful form which might otherwise intrude itself. The 
tiireshold of a habitation was in some sort a sacred limit, and the subject 
of much superstition. A bride, even to this day, is always lifted over it, 
a rule derived apparently from tiie Bomans. 



Note G, p. 253. — High Jinks. 

I believe this strange species of game or revel to be the same mentioned 
in old English plays, and which was called "coming from Tripoli." When 
the supposed king was seated in his post of elevation, the most active fellow 

VOL. n 2 P 



J 



434 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

in the party came into the presence leaping over as many chairs and stools 
as he could manage to spring over. He is announced aa 

A Post— 
King, From whence T 
Post. From Tripoli, my liege. 

■He then announces to the mock monarch the destruction of his army and 
fleet. This species of High Jinks was called " Gerunto," from the name of 
the luckless general. I have seen many who have played at it. 

Among the rest, an excellent friend and relative, now no more (the late 
Mr. Keith of Dimottar and Ravelstone), gave me a ludicrous account of a 
country gentleman coming up to Edinburgh rather unexpectedly, and find- 
ing his son, who he had hoped was diligently studying the law in silence 
and seclusion, busily engaged in personating the king in a full drama of 
" Gerunto." The monarch, somewhat surprised at tist, passed it off with 
assurance, calling for a seat to his worthy father, and refusing to accost him 
otherwise than in the slang of the character. This Incident — ^in itself the 
more comic situation of the two— suggested the scene in the text. 

[The old play referred to in this note was probably Fletcher's Comedy of 
** Monsieur Thomas," Act iv. Sc. 2. 

St^. Qet up to that window there, and presently. 

Like a most complete gentleman, eomefrom TripoVy. 

77io. Good Lord, sir, how are you misled 1 

What fancies — fitter for idle boys and drunkards, let me spealcft. 

BeauTfioni (md Fletcher's Works, by Dyce, voL vii. p. 876. 

The phrase To come on high from Trijpoly is also to be found in Ben 
Jonson's '* Silent Woman," Act v. Sc. 1.] 

Note H, p. 282.-— Tappit Hen, 

The Tappit Hen contained three quarts of claret — 

Weel she lo'ed a Hawick gill, 
And leogh to see a Tappit Hen. 

I have seen one of these formidable stoups at Provost Haswell's, at Jed- 
burgh, in the days of yore. It was a pewter measure, the claret being in 
ancient days served from the tap, and had the figure of a hen upon the lid. 
In later times, the name was given to a glass bottle of the same dimensionfl. 
These are rare apparitions among the degenerate topers of modem days. 



Note I, p. 282. — Convivial Habits of the Scottish Bar, 

The account given by Mr. Pleydell of his sitting down in the midst of 
a revel to draw an appeal case, was taken from a story told me by an aged 
gentleman, of the elder President Dundas of Amiston (father of the younger 
President and of Lord Melville). It had been thought very desirable, 
while that distinguished lawyer was King's counsel, that his assistance 
should be obtained in drawing an appeal case, which, as occasion for such 
writings then rarely occurred, was held to be matter of great nicety. The 
solicitor employed for the appellant, attended by my informant acting as 



»OTES TO GUY MANNEKING. 436 

his clerk, went to the Lord Advocate's chambers in the Fishiuarket Close, 
as I think. It was Saturday at noon, the Court was just dismissed, the 
Lord Advocate had changed his dress and booted himself, and his servant 
and horses were at the foot of the close to carry him to Arniston. It waa 
scarcely possible to get him to listen to a word respecting business. The 
wily agent, however, on pretence of asking one or two questions, which 
would not detain him half-an-hour, drew his Lordship, who was no less an 
eminent bon vivant than a lawyer of unequalled talent, to take a whet at a 
celebrated tavern, when the learned counsel became gradually involved in 
a spirited discussion of the law points of the case. At length it occurred 
to him, that he might as well ride to Arniston in the cool of the evening. 
The horses were directed to be put in the stable, but not to be unsaddled. 
Dinner was ordered, the law was laid aside for a time, and the bottle cir^ 
culated very freely. At nine o'clock at night, after he had been honouring 
Bacchus for so many hours, the Lord Advocate ordered his horses to be 
onsaddled — ^paper, pen, and ink were brought — ^he began to dictate the 
appeal case — and continued at his task till four o'clock next morning. By 
next day's post, the solicitor sent the case to London, a chef-dH cewore of its 
kind ; and in which, my informant assured me, it was not necessary on 
revisal to correct five words. I am not, therefore, conscious of having 
overstepped accuracy in describing the manner in which Scottish lawyers 
of the old time occasionally united the worship of Bacchus with that of 
Themis. My informant was Alexander Keith, Esq., grandfather to my 
friend, the present Sir Alexander Keith of Kavelstone, and apprentice at 
the time to the writer who conducted the cause. 

[It may not be out of place here to add an extract from Lockhart's 
Memoirs respecting a circumstance in the Author's career of much su^es- 
tive interest 

" In March 1798, when the Court of Session rose, Scott proceeded into Galloway, 
where he had not before been, in order to make himself acquainted with the persons 
and localities mixed up with the case of a certain Rev. Mr. M'Nanght, minister of 
Girthon, in Kirkondbright, whose trial, on charges of habitual drunkenness, and 
other improper conduct, was about to take place before the ' General Assembly' of 
the Kirk. 

" The argument of the cause (for which he received five guineas) was sustained by 
Scott in a speech of considerable length at the bar of the Assembly. It was far the 
most important business in which any solicitor had as yet employed him, and 37m 
Club mustered strong in the gallery. He began in a low voice, but by degrees 
gathered more confidence ; and when it became necessary for him to analyse the 
evidence touching a certain penny-wedding, repeated some very course specimens 
of his client's alleged conversation, in a tone so bold and free, that he was called to 
order with great austerity by one of the leading members of the Venerable Court. 
This seemed to confuse him not a little ; so when, by and by, he had to recite a 
stanza of one of M 'Naught's convivial ditties, he breathed it out in a faint and 
hesitating style ; whereupon, thinking he needed encouragement, the allies in the 
gallery astounded the Assembly by cordial shouts of Btmr ! hear /--encore I VMore * 
They were immediately turned out, and Scott got through the rest of his haraagui 
very little to his own sattslactiou. 

" ne believed, in a word, that he had made a complete failure, and issued from the 
Court in a melancholy mood. At the door he found Adam Fergnsson waiting to 
Inlbrm bim that the brethren so anceremoniouslv extruded from the gallery bad 



436 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

sought shelter in a neighbouring tavern, where they hoped ue wuold johi them. Be 
complied with the invitation, but seemed for a long while incapable of enjoying th« 
merriment of his frienda. ' Come, Dvma,* cried Fergusson ; — ' cheer up, man, and 
All another tumbler; here's ♦ ♦ * ♦ * going to give us ThtTaiUr.*—'Ah.\* 
be answered with a groan — ' the tailor was a better man than me, sirs ; for he didna 
venture ten until he kenned the vmy.* A certain comical old song, which had, 
perhaps, been a favourite with the minister of Oirthon — 

' The tailor he came here to sew. 
And weel he kenn'd the way o't,' 

was, however, sung and chorussed ; and the evening ended in the full Jollity of 
High Jinks. 
" Mr. M*Naught was deposed fh)m the ministry *♦*♦♦♦ 
Tt Is to be observed, that the research he had made with a view to pleading this 
oolul's cause, carried him for the first, and I believe for the last time, into the 
scenery of his Ouy Hannering ; and I may add, that several of the names of the 
minor characters of the novel (that of M*Ouffogy for example) appear in the list of 
witnesses for and against his client." — J. O. Lockhart.] 

Note K, p. 336. — Gipsy Cookery. 

We must again have recourse to the contribution to Blackwood's Maga- 
zine, April 1817 : — 

"To the admirers of good eating, gipsy cookery seems to have little 
ko recommend it. I can assure you, however, that the cook of a nobleman 
of high distinction, a person who never reads even a novel without an eye 
to the enlargement of the culinary science, has added to the Almanach des 
Gourmands a certain Potage d la Meg MerrUies de DemcUughy consisting 
of game and poultry of all kinds, stewed with vegetables into a soup, which 
rivals in savour and richness the gallant messes of Camacho's wedding ; and 
which the Baron of Bradwardine would certainly have reckoned among the 
EjjuUb lautiores." 

The artist alluded to in this passage is Mons. Florence, cook to Henry 
and Charles, late Dukes of Buccleuch, and of high distinction in his pro- 
fession. 

Note L, p. 368. — Lord Monboddo. 

The Burnet, whose taste for the evening meal of the ancients is quoted 
by Mr. Pleydell, was the celebrated metaphysician and excellent man Lord 
Monboddo, whose ccenas will not be soon forgotten by those who have 
shared his classic hospitality. As a Scottish Judge, he took the designa- 
tion of his family estate. His philosophy, as is well known, was of a fanci- 
ful and somewhat fantastic character ; but his learning was deep, and he 
was possessed of a singular power of eloquence, which reminded the hearer 
of the OS rotundum of the Grove or Academe. Enthusiastically partial to 
classic habits, his entertainments were always given in the evening, when 
there was a circulation of excellent Bourdeaux, in flasks garlanded with 
roses, which were also strewed on the table after the maimer of Horace. 
The best society, whether in respect of rank or literary distinction, was 
always to be found in St. John's Street, Canongate. The conversation of 
the excellent old man, his high gentleman-like and chivalrous spirit, the 



1 



NOTES TO GUY MANNERING. 437 

learning and wit with which he defended his fanciful paradoxes, and the 
kind and liberal spirit of his hospitality, must render these tukUs coenceque 
dear to all who, like the anthor (though then young), had Ihe honour of 
dtting at his hoard. 



Note M, p. 360. — Lawtebs' Sleepless Niohts. 

It is probably true, as observed by Counsellor Pleydell, that a lawyer's 
anxiety about his case, supposing him to have been some time in practice, 
will seldom disturb his rest or digestion. Clients will, however, sometimes 
fondly entertain a different opinion. I was told by an excellent judge, 
now no more, of a country gentleman, who, addressing his leading counsel, 
my informer, then an advocate in great practice, on the morning of the day 
on which the case was to be plead^ said, with singular honhonmviey ** Weel, 
my lord (the counsel was Lord Advocate), the awful day is come at last. 
I have nae been able to sleep a wink for thinlriTig of it — nor, I daresay, 
your lordship either." 



ADDITIONAL NOTE. 

QALWEGIAN LOCALITIES AND PEBSONAGES WHICH HAVE BEEN 
SUPPOSED TO BE ALLUDED TO IN THE NOVEL. 

An old English proverb says, that more know Tom Fo6l than Tom Fool 
knows ; and the influence of tilie adage seems to extend to works composed 
under the influence of an idle or foolish planet Many corresponding 
circumstances are detected by readers, of which the author did not suspect 
the existence. He must, however, regard it as a great compliment, that, in 
detailing incidents purely imaginary, he has been so fortunate in approxi- 
mating reality, as to remind his readers of actual occurrences. It is there- 
fore with pleasure he notices some pieces of local history and tradition, 
which have been supposed to coincide with the fictitious persons, incidents, 
and scenery of Guy Mannering. 

The prototype of Dirk Hatteraick is considered as having been a Dutch 
skipper called Yawkins. This man was well known on the coast of 
Galloway and Dumfriesshire, as sole proprietor and master of a Buckkar, 
or smuggling lugger, called The Black Prince. Being distinguished by his 
nautical skill and intrepidity, his vessel was frequently freighted, and his 
own services employed, by French, Dutch, Manx, and Scottish smuggling 
companies. 

A person weU known by the name of Buckkar-Tea, from having been 
a noted smuggler of that article, and also by that of Bogle-Bush, the place 
of his residence, assured my kind informant, Mr. Train, that he had 
frequently seen upwards of two hundred Lingtowmen assemble at one time, 
and go ojBf into the interior of the country, fully laden with contraband 
goods. 



^ 



438 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

In those halcyon days of the free trade, the fixed price for carrying 8 
box of tea» or bale of tobacqo, from the coast of Galloway to 'Edinburgh, 
was fifteen shillings, and a man with two horses carried four such packages. 
The trade was entirely destroyed by Mr. Pitt's celebrated commutation 
law, which, by reducing the duties upon excisable articles, enabled the 
lawful dealer to compete with the smuggler. The statute was called in 
GaUoway and Dumfriesshire, by those who had thriyen upon the contra- 
band trade, ** the burning and starving act." 

Sxire of such active assistance on shore, Yawkins demeaned himself so 
boldly, that his mere name was a terror to the officers of the revenue. 
He availed himself of the fears which his presence inspired on one particular 
night, when, happening to be ashore with a considerable quantity of goods 
in his sole custody, a strong party of excisemen came down on him. Far 
from shunning the attack, Yawkins spnmg forward, shouting, " Come on, 
my lads I Yawkins is before you. " The revenue officers were intimidated, 
and relinquished their prize, though defended only by the courage and 
address of a single man. On his proper element, Yawkins was equally 
successful. On one occasion, he was landing his call'go at the Manxman's 
Lake, near Kirkcudbright, when two revenue cutters (the Pigmy and the 
Dwarf) hove in sight at once on different tacks, the one coming round by 
the Isles of Fleet, the other between the Point of Bueberry and the Muckle 
Ron. The dauntless free-trader instantly weighed anchor, and bore down 
right between the Infers, so close that he tossed his hat on the deck of 
the one, and his wig on that of the other, hoisted a cask to his maintop, 
to show his occupation, and bore away under an extraordinary pressure of 
canvass, without receiving ix^jury. To account for these and other hair* 
breadth escapes, popular superstition alleged that Yawkins insured his 
celebrated buckkar by compounding with the devil for one-tenth of his crew 
every voyage. How they arranged the separation of the stock and tithes, 
is left to our conjecture. The buckkar was perhaps called The Black Prince 
in honour of the formidable insurer. 

The Black Prince used to discharge her cargo at Luce, Balcarry, and else- 
where on the coast ; but her owner's favourite landing-places were at the 
entrance of the Dee and the Cree, near the old castle of Bueberry, about 
six miles below Kirkcudbright. There is a cave of large dimensions in the 
vicinity of Bueberry, which, from its being frequently used by Yawkins, 
and his supposed connection with the smugglers on the shore, is now 
called Dirk Hatteraick's cave. Strangers who visit this place, the scenery 
of which is highly romantic, are also shown, under the name of the Ganger's 
Loup, a tremendous precipice, being the same, it is asserted, from which 
Kennedy was precipitated. 

Meg Merrilies is in Galloway considered as having had her origin in the 
traditions concerning the celebrated Flora Mai-shal, one of the royal consorts 
of Willie Marshal, more commonly called the Caird of Barullion, King of 
the Gipsies of the Western Lowlands. That potentate was himself de- 
serving of notice, from the following peculiarities. He was bom in the 
parish of Kirkmichael, about the year 1671 ; and as he died at Kirkcud- 
bright 23d November 1792, he must then have been in the one hundred 
and twentieth year of his age. It cannot be said that this unusually long 
lease of existence was noted by any peculiar excellence of conduct or habits 
of life. Willie had been pressed or enlisted seven times, and had deserted 



NOTES TO GUY MANNERING. 439 

M often ; besides three times numing away from the nayal seirioe. He 
had been seventeen times lawfully married ; and besides such a reasonably 
large share of matrimonial comforts, was, after his hundredth year, the 
avowed father ci four children, by less legitimate affections. He subsisted, 
m his extreme old age, by a pension from the present Earl of Selkirk's 
grandfather. Will Marshal is buried in Kirkcudbright church, where his 
monument is still shown, decorated with a scutcheon suitably blazoned 
with two tups' horns and two cutty spoons. 

In his youth he occasionally took an evening walk on the highway, wttih 
the purpose of assisting travellers by relieving them of the weight of their 
purses. On one occasion, the Caird of Barullion robbed the Laird of 
Bargally, at a place between Oarsphaim and Dalmellington. His purpose 
was not achieved without a severe struggle, in which the gipsy lost his 
bonnet, and was obliged to escape, leaving it on the road. A respectable 
farmer happened to be the next passenger, and seeing the bonnet, alighted, 
took it up, ana rather imprudently put it on his own head. At this instant, 
Bargally came up with some assistants, and recognising the bonnet, charged 
the farmer of Bantoberick with having robbed him, and took him into 
custody. There being some likeness between the parties, Bargally persisted 
in his charge, and though the respectability of the farmer's character was 
proved or admitted, his trial before the Circuit Court came on accordingly. 
The fatal bonnet lay on the table of the Court ; Bargally swore that it was 
the identical article worn by the man who robbed him ; and he and others 
likewise deponed that they had foimd the accused on the spot where the 
crime was committed, with the bonnet on his head. The case looked 
gloomily for the prisoner, and the opinion of the judge seemed unfavour- 
able. But there was a person in Court who knew well both who did and 
who did not commit the crime. This was the Caird of Barullion, who, 
thrusting himself up to the bar, near the place where Bargally was stand- 
ing, suddenly seized on the bonnet, put it on his head, and looking the 
Laird full in the face, asked him, with a voice which attracted the attention 
of the Court and crowded audience — " Look at me, sir, and tell me, by the 
oath you have sworn — ^Am not / the man who robbed you between Car- 
sphaim and Dalmellington?" Bargally replied, in great astonishment, 
"By Heaven! you are the very man." — "You see what sort of memory 
this gentleman has," said the volunteer pleader : " he swears to the bonnet, 
whatever features are under it. If you yourself, my Lord, will put it on 
your head, he will be willing to swear that your Lordship was the party 
who robbed him between Csunsphaim and Dalmellington." The tenant of 
Bantoberick was unanimously acquitted, and thus Willie Marshal ingeni- 
ously contrived to save an innocent man from danger without incurring 
any himself, since BargaUy's evidence must have seemed to everyone too 
fluctuating to be relied upon. 

While the King of the Gipsies was thus laudably occupied, his royal 
consort. Flora, contrived, it is said, to steal the hood from the Judge's 
gown ; for which offence, combined with her presumptive guilt as a gipsy, 
she was banished to New England, whence she never returned. 

Now. I cannot grant that the idea of Meg Merrilies was, in the first con- 
coction of the character, derived from Flora Marshal, seeing I have, already 
sdd she was identified with Jean Gordon, and as I have not the Laird ol 
Bargally's apology for charging the same fant on two several individuals. 



440 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

Yet I am quite content that Meg should be considered aa a repiesentatiye 
of her sect and class in general — Flora, as well as others. 

The other instances in which my Oallovidian readers have obliged ma, 
by assigning to 

—————— airy nothings 

A local habitation and a name, 

shall also be sanctioned so far as the Author may be entitled to do so. I 
think the facetious Joe Miller records a case pretty much in point ; where 
the keeper of a Museum, while showiog, as he said, the very sword with 
which Balaam was about to kill his ass, was interrupted by one of the 
visitors, who reminded him that Balaam was not possessed of a sword, but 
only wished for one. "True, sir," replied the ready-witted cicerone; 
** but this is the yery sword he wished for." The Author, in application 
of this story, has only to add, that, though ignorant of the coincidence 
between the fictions of the tale and some real circumstances, he is contented 
to believe he must unconsciously have thought or dreamed of the last while 
engaged in the composition of Ouy Mannering. 



I 



GLOSSAET TO GUT MAIfNEKING. 



Abuvk, above. 
A.OAiN-s'xN, abont evening. 
AiBLDfTS, perhaps. 
Aix, oak. 
Ail, prevent. 
Awxoua, alms. 

Bairn, a child. 

Ballamt, ballad, liable. 

Basbow-tram, shaft of a wheelbarrow. 

Baulk, plot of ground. 

Bkdral, a sexton. 

Bibld, shelter. 

BiGOiT, bnilt. 

BiBK, biroh twig. 

BiTTOCK, more than a bit. 

Blatb, bashfoL 

Blukrbr, bungler. 

Bltthx, merry. 

BoDDLB, a small copper coin 

BooLS, ghost, scarecrow. 

BoMXiE, pretty. 

BouMTiTH, a bounty. 

Brat, a peevish child. 

Braw, fine, brave. 

Brock, a badger. 

Brod, a plate. 

Gadix, a street-porter. 

Ganxv, quiet. 

Cast, fate. 

Chixld, a fellow. 

CHUMLAr, chimney. 

Glanjamfrat, rabble. 

Claver, gossip. 

Clod, to thud. 

Clour, to smash or thump. 

CovT, bought. 

CoLUE-SHANOiE, quarrcL 

Coup, upset 

Creel, basket for the back. 

CuDDv, a donkey. 

Daft, crazy. 

Dbil, deviL 

DoNNART, stupid. 

Doo, a pigeon. 

Dooms, absolutely. 

DowTB, sad. 

Dowse thk olut., pnt out tbB U|^ 



I>UB, apooL 
Duds, clothes. 

Eassel, eastward. 

Ekn, eyes. 

ElLDINO, ftiel. 

BvKNiNo TILL, likening to, making equal 

Fair strae death, a natural death. 
Far-vaud, a cry of encouragement to a 

shepherd's d(^. 
Fash, trouble. 
Feck, a part 
Feckless, feeble. 
Fell, the skin. 
Fell, terrible. 
Fie, mad. 

FisNT A haet, the deuce I 
FiKx, fidget 
Fur, remove. 
FoRBVE, besides. 
Foumart, a pole-cat 

Oae-doun, a bout 
Ganorel, vagrant 
Gano-therb-out, wandering. 
Gar'd, ordered, forced. 
Gate, way or direction. 
Gauoer, exciseman. 
Gaun, going. 

Gat or oet, good, considerably. 
Gear, property. 
GiEN, given. 

GiFF OAFF, mutual obligation. 
Gliffino, an instant. 
Glower, stare. 
GouD, gold. 
GowAV, a daisy. 
Grue, a greyhound. 
GuDEMAN, husband. 
GuisARD, a mummer. 
GuMFHioN, a funeral banner 
Gyre-oarliho, a witch. 

Haddek, held. 

Hafflik, half-grown. 

Hallak, partition at the doorway. 

Hansel, a present. • 

Hamtle, a number of 

ELiUD. biold. 



442 



WAVERLET NOVELS. 



., holBL 
Hkuch, a delL 
EbRsxL, to edge down. 
floBSB-oouPER, horse-doalm^. 
HouDiB, midwife. 
Hour FIB I tut fie I 
HowK, dig. 
HowM, hollow. 
Hum dudoxon, the pet. 
Hunt thb oowk, go on a fool's errand. 

Ilka, each. 

Kaim, a camp, a rising ground. 

Kiixooix, the fireplace of a lime-kiln. 

KiMMER, a gossip. 

Kipper, salt preserve. 

KiST, a chest. 

Khtle, ticklish, slippery. 

Ekbvell, to beat or knead. 

Lair, learning. 

Lanostne, long ago. 

Lib-ken, a cell. 

LiKEWAKE, ceremony of watching the 

dead. 
LiMMER, jade. 
LiPPKN, trost. 
Loaning, meadow. 
Loup, leap. 
Low, blaze. 
Luo, the ear. 
LuNT, to blaxe np. 

MuTCHKiN, Scotch measure equal to a pint. 

NiFT-NAPFT, precise and troublesome 
about trifles 

Orka, odd. 
OwER, over. 

Pairs, punishment. 
Peenoino, whining. 
Pirn, a reel, 
Pow, the head. 
Prig, beg or beat down. 
Prin, a pin. 

Rampauoino, roaring, scolding. 
Bandle-tree, wild one 
Randy, wild. 
Bedding, clearing up. 
Ripe, to rake. 
Rotten, a rat. 
Roup, to auction. 
Ruckle, rattle. 

Sain, bless. 
Bark, a shirt. 



Savoh, a willow. 

Saulix, a mute. 

SoABT, scratch. 

Sorxbd, a yam. 

Bbct, sex. 

Sib, related to. 

Sic, such. 

Siller, money. 

Shibung, a cot. 

Shbrra, sheriff. 

Shoon, shoes. 

Slap, a breach. 

Slack, a hollow. 

Slowhound, slenthhound. 

Smaik, a poor wretch. 

Souple, a switch. 

Spae, to foretell. 

Speir, to ask, inquire. 

Splores, quarrels. 

Spruo, a sparrow. 

Spunk, a match. 

Stibbler, a probationer, a. ncvice 

Stickit, stuck. 

Stirk, a heifer. 

Stirred, disturbed or harmed 

Streak, to stretch. 

Sunkie, a stooL 

Swear, difficult. 

Taen, taken. 
Tass, a glass. 
Tent, care. 
Thack, thatch 
Thae, these. 
Thrapple, the throat. 
Tipp, a mouthful, a glass. 
ToD, a fox. 
Tulzib, a scuffle. 
TwASOME, second. 

Unco, very, particularly 

Wale, choice. 
Ware, beware. 
Warlock, witch, wizard. 
Waster, a trident. 
Wadr, worse. 
Wean, an infant. 

Weird is dreed, the destiny is fnlfUIod 
Wessel, westward. 
Wheen, a few. 
Whiogino, jogging. 
Whittret, a weasel. 
WoRRioow, hobgoblin, scarecrow. 
Wot, knew. 
I WuDDiE, a rope, the gaUows. 

i Taitino. chatter. 



IITOEX TO GUY MANNEEING. 



k FORFEIT ! a forfeit I 255. 

Ailie Dinmont and her family, 163, 177. 

Allan, Mrs., the housekeeper, surprise at 

the Dominie, Bd8 
Antiburghers and swearing, 217. 
Astrologer, M'Kinlay's story of, 2. 
Astrology, a recent believer in, and his 

scheme, 8 ; Sampson's opinion of, S3 ; 

general belief in, 36. 
Attack on Portanferry Custom-house and 

gaol, 352. 
Attack on Woodboume, 205. 
Author's account of personages in Guy 

Mannering, 1 ; connection with scene 

of the novel, 435 ; incognito and Lay of 

Last Minstrel, 15, 178. 

BADOKR-HaNT at Charlies-hope, 176. 

Balaam's sword, anecdote, 7u>te, 440. 

Bar, Scottish, convivial habits of, note, 484. 

Bertram, Godfrey, his pedigree, 22 ; his 
wife's accouchement, 29, 34 ; complaints 
about the commission of the peace, 46 ; 
made a justice, and commences his 
ejectments, 51 ; quarrel with the gipsies, 
58 ; meets the ejected gipsies, 62 ; last 
hours of, 100-105. 

Bertram, Harry {see also Brown), birth of, 
34, 88; his mother hangs the charm 
round his neck, 49; companionship 
with the gipsies, 60; disappearance 
with Kennedy, 70-82; Hatteraick's 
account of, 234 ; revisits EUangowan, 
293; encounter with Glossin, 295; a 
prisoner before Hazlewood, 303 ; his 
examination, 307 ; incarcerated in Port- 
anferry bridewell, 315; desponding 
situation, 320; unexpectedly joined by 
Dandie, 323 ; soliloquy at the gaol 
window, 350 ; rescued from the smug- 
glers, 354 ; arrives at Woodboume 
B65: examined as to his history, 368; 



recognised by the Dominie, 369 ; intro 
duced to his sister, 377 ; enters Hatter- 
aick's cave, 397; recognised by the 
villagers, 407 ; appears before the jus- 
tices — evidence as to his birth, 415; 
produces the charm, 418. 

Bertram, Lucy. See Lucy. 

Bertram, Mrs., accouchement of, 29, 34; 
anxieties about her boy, 71 ; dies in 
giving birth to Lucy, 75. 

Bertram, Mrs., of Singleside, disposition 
of her property, 241-248; funeral of. 
265 ; expectants at, 269. 

Bewcastle Waste, 429. 

Breakfast embarrassments at Wood 
bourne, 383. 

Brown, Vanbeest (gee also Bertram)^ 
acquaintance with Mrs. Mannering and 
Julia in India, and quarrel with Colonel 
l^Iannering, 96; suspected return to 
England, 117 ; his history and wander- 
ings, 127-143 ; description of, 142 ; his 
excursion over the Cumberland Border, 
144-150 ; at Mump's Ha' — meets Dandie 
Dinmont and Meg Merrilies, 151-156; 
rescues Dandie, 158; leaves Charlies- 
hope for Kippletringan, 177; snowed 
up, and seeks shelter in the gipsy hut, 
181; escapes from the gipsies under 
Meg's guidance, 190; encounter with 
Hazlewood, 210 ; cause of it, 220 ; goes 
over to Cumberland and corresponds 
with Julia, 286 ; revisits EUangowan, 
290. See also Bertram. 

Burial of the gipsy, 192. 



Caibd of Barullion, king of the gipsies* 

note, 438. 
Canny moment, lucky fit, 30. 
Carlaverock Castle, the prototype of EUaa 

gowan, 40. 



^44 



WAVERLEY NOVELS. 



Cave, Dirk Hatteraick's, at Warroch 

Point, 231 
Charlie, Fighting, of Liddesdale, note, 

429. 
Charlies-hope, reception of Dandle and 

Brown, 162. 
Clan surnames, note, 432. 
Clients' complaints, 277. 
Conscience, Glossin's, 239. 
Convivial habits of the Scottish bar, noUy 

434. 
Crime, Hazlewood's opinion of, 305. 
Crystal and hearts, their merit in fra- 

giHty, 361. 
Onmberland Waste, 157. 
Curling near Woodboume, 209. 
Custom-house of Portanferry, attack on, 

352. 

Dandis Dinmomt, meeting with, at 
Hump's Ha', 151 ; encounter with the 
ruffians, 158 ; arrival at CharUes-hope, 
162 ; at the lawyer's, 251 ; his law cause 
of the Langtae-head, 256 ; at Miss Ber- 
tram's funeral, 266, 269, 274; joins 
Bertram in the Portanferry bridewell, 
823; awakes to his danger, 352; at 
Woodboume, 364; accompanies Ber- 
tram into Hatteraick's cave, 397; his 
progress arrested, 398 ; note on, 431. 

Dark shall be light, 859. 

Davidson, the original of Dandie Dinmont, 
431. 

Deacon BearclifTs familiarity, 221. 

Demcleugh, Eaim of, gipsy village, 57; 
burial scene at, 184; ghostly associa- 
tions of the place, 333 ; revisited, 395. 

Dirk Hatteraick, first interview with, 42 ; 
brought to Glossin an unwelcome 
prisoner, 224 ; escape from the old 
castle, 230; in his cave with Glossin, 
233 ; his cave entered by Bertram and 
Dandle, 398 ; seized by Bertram, 402 ; 
examination of, 412; his pocket-book 
opened, 416 ; visited by Glossin in his 
cell, and death, 422-424 ; note on, 437. 

Disconsolate lovers, French relief for, 
362. 

Dominie Sampson, description of, 26; 
becomes tutor to young Bertram, 49; 
in search for young Bertram, 72 ; con- 
fronts the attorney, 103; appointed 
guardian to Lucy, 107; his longest 
speech, 110 ; in his new suit of clothes, 
136; Julia's description of, 195; ex- 
cracting bullets from the mutilated 



tomes, 207 ; Journey to Edinburgh, acts 
as literary dumb waiter, 248 ; difficulty 
in meeting the advocate's sallies, 279 ; 
Calls in with Meg at Demcleugh, 884 ; 
his suspicious meal with her, 336 ; re- 
cognises Harry Bertram, 369; breaks 
the news to Lucy, 876 ; scalds Plato at 
breakfast, 383 ; his joy in retuining to 
EUangowan, 425. 

Dominie Sampson, character of, founded 
on the Author's tutor, 14. 

Donner and blitxen! you wiU have it 
th6n,43S. 

Dream of Glossin, 228. 

Driver, the advocate's clerk, 281. 

Dumple, Dandie's sagacious pony, 160 

Dundas of Amiston, anecdote of, 434. 

Durham Garland, 7. 

Dutch courtship, 361. 

Edikbxtroh, temp, of tale, 249. 

Eillangowan Castle entered by Mannering, 
40 ; revisited by Brown (Bertram), 2^ 

EUangowan Place, first visit to, 21 ; de- 
scription of, 24 ; view from, 34, 38 ; sale 
of, 100; bought up by Glossin, 108; 
restored to Bertram, 425. 

Erskine, Bev. Dr., his sermon, 262. 

Fable is love's world, 35. 
Faggot votes on EUangowan, 50. 
Fancy, ear of, veiy sensitive, 350. 
Farmers in south of Scotland, 162. 
Fighting Charlie of Liddesdale, 429. 
Fire at Portanferry, 353. 
Flageolet serenade, 117. 
Fletcher of Saltoun's description of the 

gipsies, 55. 
Fouqu6's Sintram, 7. 
Fox-hunt at CharUes-hope, 169. 
Funeral, Scotch, description of, 266. 

Gabrivl Faa, the gipsy huntsman, 174 ; 

his history, 236; warns Dandie of 

Harry Bertram's danger, 825 ; gives 

evidence as to Kennedy and young 

Bertram, 417. 
GaUows, rhyme on, 218. 
Galwegian localities and personages con 

nected with the novel, note on, 487. 
Gaol of Portanferry, 316. 
Gaol where Hatteraick and Glossin were 

confined, 419. 
Cterunto— ** Where is Geranto now ?" 253 ; 

note on, 434. 
Glossin. Gilbert, assists old Bertram in 



IND£X. 



445 



aleetloneering, 50 ; at the sale of Ellan- 
gowan, 103; buys np the estate, 108; 
unpleasant position in society, 213; 
interview with Mrs. M'Candlish about 
Brown, 215 ; with Dirk Hatteraick in 
his hands, 224 ; complicity with the 
tragedy at Warroch Point, 228 ; meets 
with Hatteraick in the cave, 281 ; 
arranges his plot against Brown, 237 ; 
rebuff at Woodboume, 241 ; encounters 
young Bertram at EUangowan, 295 ; 
chuckles over the incarceration of 
Bertram, 314; appears in the Justice 
loom at Hatteraick's examination, 418 ; 
committed to tlie coimty gaol, 417; 
enters Hatteraick's cell, and murder, 
421. 

Gibbie'8-Enowe, last meeting with Heg 
Merrilies, 389. 

Gipsies, Author's acquaintance with, 9 ; in 
Scotland, 54-67 ; ejectment from EUan- 
gowan, 62; in the hut where Brown 
is concealed, 184 ; cookery, note on, 436 ; 
superstitions, note on, 433. 

Gordon, Jean, prototype of Meg Merrilies, 
10 ; Madge, queen of the Tetholm 
gipsies, 13. 

Oreyfriars Church, Edinburgh, 262. 

Groaning Malt, note on, 429. 

Guy Mannering, origin of the work, 1 ; 
author's connection with the scene of, 
435 ; note on localities and personages 
alluded to, 487 

Guy Mannering, Colonel. Su Mannering. 

Hatteraick, Dirk. See Dirk. 

Hazlewood, Charles, employs Dominie 
Sampson for Lucy's sake, 112; his 
▼isits to Woodboume, 140 ; attentions 
to Lucy, 198 ; accidentally wounded by 
Brown, 210 ; is warned by Meg of the 
danger of Portanferry gaol, 344 ; Joins 
Bertram tn Hatteraick's cave, 398. 

Hazlewood, Sir Robert, receives Harry 
Bertram as a prisoner, 301 ; his sen- 
tentious reasons for not parting with 
the dragoons, 345 ; averse to discharge 
young Bertram, 386. 

Herezeld in feudal tenures, 409. 

Hewit, old Bertram's natural son, 415. 

High Jinks played by Pleydell, 253 ; note 
on, 433. 

It is not the lucre, 110. 

JxAN GoRDOK, prototype of Meg Merrilies, 
10 : barbarous death of. IS. 



Jenny Gibson and the expectants of the 
Singleside property, 276. 

Jock JaboB guides Mannering to EUan- 
gowan, 21 ; corrects the precentor, 88 . 
interrogated by Glossin, 219 ; drives off 
Brown and Dandie fh>m the prison, 356. 

Johnson, Sam. Dr., his admiration for a 
post-chaise, 150. 

Julia Mannering, acquaintance with 
Brown, 96; serenaded from the lake, 
117, 124 ; extracts from her Ietters,'121- 
132; flrat meeting with Lucy, 138; 
flirtations at Woodboume, 198 ; vexa- 
tions about Brown, 201; alarming 
meeting with Brown, 210; letter to 
Brown, 289 ; examined by her father, 
379. 

Justice of the peace, old Bertram's com- 
mission, 46-61. 

Kaim of Demcleugh. 8u Demcleugh. 
Keith of Dunottar, anecdote by, 434. 
Een-no cheese, note on, 429. 
Kennedy, Frank, excise officer, 62-66, 

found dead at Warroch Point, 73-77 ; 

Hatteraick's dreams of, 239 ; death oi; 

described by witnesses, 412-418. 
Kippletringan, Mannering's Journey to 

18 ; Gordon Arms Inn, 83. 
Eittlecourt, Sir Thomas, 46-50. 

Law like laudanum, 419 ; the chimney of 

civilised society, 277. 
Lawyers' anxiety, 360 ; of Old Edinburgh, 

250 ; convivial habits, 253 ; sleepless 

nights, note on, 437 ; their tools of trade, 

264. 
Lay of Last Minstrel, reason for quoting, 

178. 
Library at Woodboume, 142. 
Idddesdale roads, 276. 
Lochside, Gudeman of, among the gipsies, 

10. 
Lovers, disconsolate, French relief for, 

362. 
Luckie Howatson, 29. 
Lucy Bertram by her father's side, 101 ; 

leaves EUangowan, 109 ; her lover, 113 ; 

received as a guest at Woodboume, 134 , 

Julia's opinion of, 196 ; recognises her 

lost brother, 377. 
Lum-cleeks, note on, 432. 

M'Candlish of the (Gordon Arms, Kipple- 
tringan, 83 ; Mrs. interrogated by Glossiu 
about Brown, 216-22) 



446 



WAVERLEY NOVELS. 



M'OMqaa, an expectant of Singleslde's, 

269. 
If 'Gnffog bringii Hatteraiek a pfriBoner to 
Olossin, 223; shows Bertram into his 
ceU at Portanfeny, 816; lets Glossin 
enter Hatteraick's cell, 426. 
M'Ouffog, Mrs., of the BrldeweU, S15. 
M 'Gnffog, note, 436. 

M'Kinlay, John, his Gallovidian story, 1. 
M*Morlan, interview with Mannering 
abont the property, 98; disappointed 
at the sale, 108 ; receives Lncy and the 
Dominie into his house, 110; his re- 
ception by Sir R. Hazlewood, and 
orders the guard back to Portanfeiry, 
347. 
Macers before Supreme Court, 426. 
M'Naught of Girthin, note, 435. 
Madge Gordon, queen of the Yetholm 

gipsies, 13. 
Malt, groaning, note, 429. 
Marshal, Flora and Will, the gipsies, note, 

438. 
Matilda Marchmont, Julia's correspond- 
ent, 120. 
Mannering seeks a guide for Kippletringan, 
19 ; views the heavens, and reads young 
Bertram's fortune, 34-38, 48; second 
visit to Kippletringan, 85; letter to 
Mervyn, describing his life, and ac- 
quaintance with Vanbeest Brown, 94- 
98; second visit to EUangowan, 99; 
silences Glossin, 104 ; letter about his 
daughter, and return to England, 115- 
120 ; interview with his daughter, 129 ; 
takes up his residence at Woodboume, 
183; arranging the bishop's library, 
141 ; visit to Edinburgh on law business, 
248 ; meets with Dandie at the lawyer's, 
251 ; at Miss Bertram's funeral, 265 ; 
introduced to David Hume, Dr. Clerk, 
Adam Smith, etc., 278; return to 
Woodboume, 330 ; impatiently expect- 
ant, 862 ; receives Bertram and Dandle, 
365 ; reconciliation with Brown (Ber- 
tram), 375; advice to his daughter, 
879 ; bails out Bertram, 386. 
Meg Merrilies, first interview with, 80 ; 
at Bhangowan Castle, 41 ; malediction 
on old Bertram, 64; examined about 
the disappearance of Harry Bertram, 
82 ; at Mump's Ha', 154 ; in the gipsy 
hut with t'iie dead body, 182; craves 
twa boons from Bertram, 192 ; Hatter- 
aick's opinion of her occult influence, 
240 : at Gilsland. 284 ; £sUs in with the 



Dominie, and gives him a letter to 
Mannering, 834; warns young Hade- 
wood about withdrawing the guard 
trorn Portanferry, 844 ; writes Manner- 
ing to send a coach to Portanferry. 
859; takes Bertram and Dandie to 
Hatteraick's cave, 892 ; death and de- 
claration of, 404 ; note on, 438 ; character 
of, founded on Jean Gordon, 10. 

Merchant of Venice, lovers' scene in, 12* 

Mervyn, letter from, to Mannering, 116. 

Monboddo, Lord, note, 436. 

Monkeys, Lucian's fable of, 268. 

Mump's Ha', meeting of Brown and 
Dandie, 151 ; note on, 429. 

Murder of Glossin in the gaol, 422. 

Music at Woodboume, 360. 

My bairn I my bairn I 73. 

On n'arrdte pas dans un si beau chemJa, 

356. 
Otterscopescaurs, fox-hunt, 169. 

Pass breath, come death, 408. 

Pedestrianism, exhilarating effects, 150. 

Pepper and Mustard terriers, 152; 
mutilated by the badger, 176; note 
on, 431. 

Pleydell, Mr. the advocate, 253 ; always 
speaks tmth of a Saturday night, 259 ; 
his house, 263 ; examines Rebecca about 
Meg Merrilies' story, 283; arrives at 
Woodboumo, 356; examines young 
Bertram, 368 ; offers bail for Bertram, 
386 ; his fees from the young ladies, 
411 ; examines Hatteraiek and Glossin, 
412. 

Portanferry bridewell, 315 ; custom-house 
broken into by the smugglers, 350. 

Precentor Skreigh, 84. 

Prodigious I 32, 141, 426. 

Proof, legal, and moral conviction, 384. 

Protocol the attorney, 271. 

Quid, the tobacconist, 269. 

Rkadino, good, characteristics of, 197. 
Rebecca, Singleside's waiting-maid, her 

examination, 283. 
Redding straik, 183, 433. 
Ride your ways. Laird of Ellangowan I 64 
Riding, favourite exercise on the Bordex 

178. 
Right makes our might, 297. 
Roads in Liddesdale, temp, tale, 276 
Robertson, Rev. Dr., the historian S62. 
Roman wall of Cumberland, IMr 



INDEX. 



447 



iialmon-Ieisteriiig ac Oharlies-hope, 172. 
Sampson, Abet See Dominie. 
Sapling, breaking the, 65. 
Baufen Bier und Brantewein, 234. 
Scottish bar, convivial habits, note, 434. 
Self-defence, 115. 
Serenade of Julia, 117, 124. 
Sheriff, examination of Kennedy's body, 

75. 
Sintram, by Motte Foaqu6, 7. 
Skreigh, the precentor, 84. 
Sleepless nights, lawyers', noUy 437. 
Smith, Adam, carried off by gipsies, 61. 
Smugglers' attack on Woodboume, 203 ; 

attack on Portanferry custom-house, 

352 ; note on, 437. 
Smuggling, old Bertram's opinion of, 

45, 48, 68 ; at Ellangowan, 66. 
Snow, effects on a landscape, 230. 
Stickit minister, 27. 
Stratagems in law, 888. 
Streakmg the corpse of the gipsy,485. 
Superstitions, gipsy, iiote, 433. 
Supper, Pleydell's favourite meal, 358. 
Surnames, clan, note, 432. 
Swearing among the Antiburghers, 217. 

Tam HusfiON, the gamekeeper, 152. 

fappit Hen, note, 484. 

Terriers, Dandie Dinmont's, 481. 



The Hour's come, mti the Man, 402. 
Thomson, Rev. Geoige, prototype of 

Dominie Sampson, 14. 
Tib Mumps of Mump's Ha', 165. 
Time, measurement of, 104. 
Trefoil, vervain, John's-wort, dill, 81. 
Tripoli, come from, 434. 
Twist ye, twine ye I 41. 

Warroch Point, 70, 73, 77 ; tragedy at» 
as remembered by Harry Bertram, 370. 

Warroch wood revisited, 396. 

Wasp, Brown's terrier, annoys the enemy, 
169; left at Charlies-hope, 176; its 
long trot with Dandie, 326 ; sounds the 
alarm at Portanferry, 350. 

Wasted, weary, wherefore stay? 182. 

Whistling up the rent, 374. 

Will, reading Miss Bertram's, 271. 

Woodboume, description of, 133; at- 
tacked by smugglers, 203-208 ; visit of 
Pleydell, and attentions to the ladies, 
366; arrival of carriage with Bertram 
and Dandie, 364; embarrassed break- 
fast party, 383. 

Yawkins, the smuggler, note, 437. 
Yungfrauw Hagenslaapen, Hatteraick's 

lugger, 44; chased by the revenue 

cutter, 6», 78 



END OF GUY ALVNNERING. 



Printed by R. & R. Clark, Edinburgh. 



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